Immigrant Songs

Epilogue: Shameless Self-Promotion

2006-09-17T23:07:00.000-04:00

"And having no further concern, he and his companions sought adventure in the West. Many wars and feuds did Conan fight. Honor and fear were heaped upon his name and, in time, he became a king by his own hand... But that is another story."

I'm now back in the United States working my way through a more regular life, but that doesn't mean the saga ends here. I want to thank anyone who read along as I sorted my way through China and blogging, and if anyone wants to continue enjoying a mirror into my thoughts I'm starting a new blog which you might find at http://somadose.blogspot.com/. You'll still get some China stuff there, but a lot more other random pleasure and insanity.

Now, for a final farewell and an obvious ploy for hits, commence with the rambling of names and places that people might be searching for in Google! If you were looking for something substantive, Fooled you!

byfield newburyport boston andover massachusetts washington dc arlington beijing harbin qingdao jinan qufu taishan shandong yunnan kunming lijiang dali shaanxi xian shenyang hangzhou hong kong shenzhen guang dong guilin guiyang chengdu jiuzhaigou sunshine international language center teaching english in china joe day graham norwood dave rice yannick dingle alex mantel dan moger fred flather eugene cho jp chisholm chris chen angus dwyer colin dinneen barrett hamilton ted berg ted burke saxacenter glenn galloway matt holt annie witten trudy garber jenny cosco scott weiss bridgit kearns rich story mason ayer david rossi eric rahn sarah hamilton nso keith gerarden pat byrnett david hugoniot crystel myers stacie longworth jordan moore sean obrien jay slothouber frank nagle jenn colpitts summer natalie trevor ralph rachael givens chinese train schedules eating in china harbin institute of science and technology hust water contamination benzene ice festival dvd america

You Begin at the Beginning and You End at the Ending

2006-09-15T22:41:00.000-04:00

The worst thing about Good Times is that the Good Times all have to end. Such came true to my wandering around China. Such came true to my entire experience this time 'round in China.

From JiuZhaiGou I made that same twelve hour journey back to ChengDu, in reverse this time, and with my knees bent up upon my body as I booked passage on a sleeper bus (where they stacked us two high in three columns down the bus, each bed shorter than I am long, my space blockaded on either side by a vertical beam making it even more narrow than my fellow passengers'.). Back and forth up that same pass, then down; around the gorges; past the abandoned irrigation systems; suddenly back in the city. A ticket purchased to BeiJing for the next morning. A suite purchased (the most craptiatical suite I've seen) for a few hours rest before boarding.

The train ride is uneventful, as are most endings. I spend a lot of time staring out the window at the canola flowers that snake their way into each valley and as far up each mountain as the terrain allow. Any other time I dedicate to Karl Popper and his "Unending Quest." I send text messages to a high school friend I have recently learned is in BeiJing. We make plans to meet.

I meet my friend in BeiJing, after having bought a ticket leaving for Harbin that night. The situation with my high school friend is surreal: I had first traveled to China with her back in 1997; my Mandarin might now be on par with hers despite her upbringing in Hong Kong; I am introduced to other Americans (of Chinese descent) who are making it big in the new Chinese economy through their western education and eastern heritage; we find ourselves at a chic BeiJing eatery I would never have found through my habits of street-level exploration. I must leave festivities early to catch my train to Harbin.

As trains pull into Harbin from a southern approach, much of my China-life will pass by the window. My local super-store, that where I supplied myself with a hearty flow of Dewars. The island that housed the wonderous ice scupltures and snow wonderland of the winter. My school. My apartment building. My local KFC. Two more KFCs after that. And then we pull into the station.

The end is near. I feel triumphant, more so than this conquering hero haas ever felt before. I feel the need need to march. I strut with chin up down the final mile of this journey, blasting "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" the entire way.

"My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!"

I left Harbin over a month ago with a dear friend on a mission to obtain her chance to come the the US. I succeeeded.

"He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored!"

I met my parents in BeiJing and gave them a whirlwind tour of the east coast of China, hand over hand, and making an indelible mark upon their worldly experience.

"He has loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword!"

Left in Hong Kong, without manner of making it to my point of destination, I managed a political fiasco, a social barricade, and thousands of miles of geography while taking in stories and sceneries unimagined... the entire time ALONE."

"HIS TRUTH IS MARCHING ON!!!"

Strutting down Harbin's TieLuJie (Literally "Iron Road Street," or better put, "Railroad Street") the smile wouldn't leave my face. The wind blew and the cold sunk to the bones, but the warmth of personal victory would never fade. I found myself enlightened by a delight that I would never soon forget. My sack pulled high on my back, my grin wide across my face, my fleece hugged close to my skin, I eventually reached the building housing my school and the elevator that would take me home.

"GLORY GLORY HALLELUJAH!"

The elevator doors open. I walk out into the lobby. Apple, the Chinese manager, is on the phone. She drops the receiver. I'm hugged. Apple is joined by Christine. Some new girl sits and stares, aghast that such intimacy exists between a foreign teacher and the Chinese staff. She doesn't understand. Questions are asked. I laugh: loud, boistrous, with all the soul and heart that I deserve to laugh these laughs with. The teachers and TAs will tell me later they heard my jubilee while giving their lessons down the hall and instantly knew that the origin was my own mouth and they knew I had returned from my sojourn. I am honored by such identification. I sit in with some of my old classes, at times stepping on the toes of the new teacher. I make time to travel cross-town to my warehouse store for a final bottle of Dewars. I start that bottle before the final class I need to say farewell to.

Dinner that night is at the ol' Chinese BBQ where I sloppily say goodbye to some of my favorite waitstaff with my fellow foreign teachers. The next night, throughly hungover, I say goodbye to my Chinese TAs over a meal of hotpot mixed with other treats. I wonder why no one else seems to bridge the gap between the two nights. I decide that it is not worth the end of my time pondering such a query.

The Day of departure arrives in a cloudy haze. I make a few quick runs to have breakfast at Hemamas (my coffee shop in Harbin, the one owned by my Papa New Guinea friend where I pick up my final cranberry cheesecake), grab a few last DVDs, and say goodbye to some of my neighborhood friends. Returning to the school (where I had been crashing in the dormitory) I learn that I'm going to be ripped off one last time by my employer, but at least I learn it from a bevy of friends wishing me a fond farewell. Cookies, cakes, and other treats for the travel (none of which will be allowed on the plane) find themselves heaped into my arms. My boss's wife (Boss can't be there, as he owes me mucho dinero for his shitfuckiero un visa) presents a medallion with tears. I climb into the sedan to head to the airport.

"GLORY GLORY HALLELUJAH"

The airport is a mess. I won't comment. But I get to South Korea, where I purchase Steven King's "Salem's Lot" for the long haul home (I had donated my replacable books to a burgeoning library at my school). Vampires and DirecTC haunt the flight to LA, and again to Boston.

LA is not my home. LA is another world; unfamiliar. But landing in Boston there is an unmistakable quality of HOME. And I am there.

But there is still China, still Harbin. And even though I was only there a year out of my 25, it is now a home; just like DC, just like Andover, just like Byfield. I can't let it go, nor let it be forgotten.

I know one day I'll be back on the mainland. Why, I don't know. I'd guess that the first reason might be tourism in 2008, but I'd love to be back sooner for business. But I'll be back I got to replace that book I lost in KunMing. I need to check in with my friends in Harbin. My Mandarin always needs more practice.

I'm tied to that country in more ways than Lao Zi might count.

Stay tuned.

"HIS TRUTH IS MARCHING ON!!!"

They Call It Fairyland

2006-09-09T23:26:00.000-04:00

Take a pot. Add an unemployed, over-zealous, over-educated mind. Season with prep school and near-ivy league. Let simmer in China. Bring to boil with a caseful of the Banquet beer (Coors Oringinal, to the heathens). Thus comes the following entries. [UPDATE: The following entry which has now been edited by a morning-after mind.]

There were months of expectations leading up to JiuZhaiGou... finally walking through the entrance gorge brought that same giddy expecation [EDITED BY AUTHOR]

Most of my time in China had been spent on foot. I know my feet. I trust them. They've been with me as long as I can remember. Things in China? Anythings? Well, most had no longer than a year of trust, if even that. Buses fall into that "less than" category.

So I ventured forth into JiuZhaiGou. On foot.

I would soon learn that the BUS would take me deep into the beauty of the park. And save me a lot of trouble.

But the story is in the adventure! And as I headed out, mind clouded from the previous night's dinner festivity, the road was long and winding. And first it brought me to a temple where I, the lone traveler, made conversation with a park ranger who illumintaed me unto the details of the park.

And lo, by myself, was I ignored by bus after bus as I futilly thumbed rides to the end point of the park. Lugging a small pack and venturinging wherever I might, the journey continued on.

Passing a few villages along the way, I eventually ventured down a path that took me over hill and dale, through waterfall and glen, and along the forgotten bank of lakes that kept themselves in private till they blossomed in excellence for the prim and proper of the spring season.

But I was alone.

And I took that path less traveled.

As you look upon the pictures that adorn this entry, note, they do no justice. This adventure brought so many colors, so many instances, so many paths and adventures... no one picture will ever capture the experience.

I trekked on. Over hill and dale. Hill. Lagoon. Dale. Chip. In the end, Time clocked in as god, and the experience had to end. Prematurely. Were it not for friends back in Harbin who deserved a final "Goodbye," I might have stayed a second day. But it wasnt in the cards. I headed to the gate via public bus. I hiked back to the long distance bus station. I boarded my ride home.

From ChengDu it was a straight shot to BeiJIng, from there to Harbin.

Home.

The Road to Fairyland

2006-09-07T20:32:00.000-04:00

I woke up before dawn broke over the cozy and sociable courtyard-style hostel I had found in ChengDu. The bus for JiuZhaiGou left at 6 AM and from the other end of town... if you could even consider that far out being the same town or not.

The bus gave no comfort. The seats small, threadworn, and a far cry from comfortable. My seatmate chewed on something that reminded me of furniture polish and gave an acrid and pungent offense with each glob of spittle that he expunged upon the floor. I think his excretions eventually ate a hole through the bus.

Outside the confines of this vehicular wonder is where the story took place. Over 430 Km lie between ChengDu and JiuZhaiGou and within that stretch a profusion of landscape. We wove in and out of mountain tunnels and over precarious gorge-spanning bridges around the DuJiangYan Immigration System. I only figured out what this was later when I sat down with a map for at the time it seemed nothing more than a graveyard of concrete monoliths, abandoned tracks of aquaducts, drill-head syphons and other industrial detritus. Seemed like something out of Myst, but even more puzzling.

The country flattened out for a bit, but the mountains came back with a vengeance. Soon enough we zig-zagged back and forth up an incline so steep that I refuse to believe it was the easiest way. In retrospect I'm guessing this was ZhenJiang Pass, but I give no guarantees.

At some point before or after ZhenJiang Pass we stopped for lunch at a roadside chuckhouse complete with pay hole-in-the-ground and junk merchant. Thus the setting for another "foreigner on his own" story is set. Being the first in and out of the hole-in-the-ground shack, a local got in my face demanding money for the use of his hole-in-the-ground. As Chinese were entering and exiting as he pressed his argument, I retorted quite angrily that he was only trying to rip me off because I wasn't Chinese. Meanwhile more tourists were going in and out, paying no money, but snickering quite heartily. The debate came to nothing as I walked away, then flagged over by the junk dealer.

"You speak Chinese quite well!"
"Yes. Thank you. [Insert routine intro conversation.]"

While the pleasantries were exchanged I rummaged through his table, mostly full of the crap I'd seen everywhere else, though maybe a bit more Tibetan in flavor. Prayer bells, some fabric, etc.

"If you can speak Chinese I know something you might like!"
"OK. Show me."

I was kinda hoping he'd pull out some sort of Sword of Destiny or maybe some Dong Tea, but instead i got something I wasn't expecting at all. At first glance it seemed like nothing more than a Jacob's Ladder of sorts, then I realized it was carved from bone (yak bone, I'd learn). THEN I realized each side of each panel carried a carving of some different sexual act! The junk dealer quivered with laughter as he pushed the sale, but I had to pass. Why I didn't buy it, I dunno. In retrospect, it was such an odd and grotesque icon of perversion... seriously, why didn't I buy it?

Side note: the Chinese can certainly match the Japanese with sexual weirdness.

Continuing on, we hit some sort of plateau that almost seemed desert-like, but flanked on the west were those Tibetan mountains that carved their way around the SiChuan border, rising clearly off the plain hundreds of miles away. But even though the land for an hour or so seemed barren and lifeless, this is where we saw more settlements spring up than anywhere else during the journey. And as soon as we began some sort of descent we entered a forest of pine trees. Also odd about this juncture: It began to snow. Earlier in the day I had been sweating, and now, out of no where, the heaviest snow I had seen in China. Where the hell was I?

Twelve hours after departing ChengDu the bus pulled in front of the JiuZhaiGou gate. I purchased my ticket back to ChengDu for the next day (time was ticking till my plane departed for the US only 5 days later and I had over half of China to cross before then) and took up a persistent but friendly tout on a hotel room. Tossing my bags down I wandered up and down the street, sandwiched within a gorge between peaks, and put myself down in front of the largest hot pot I'd ever seen. Yak meat was plenty, as was the spicy, and beer had to follow. Some other Chinese took note of my solitude and invited me over to some toasting. I eventually stumbled back to the hotel.

In the morning I'd enter Fairyland.

The Days of High Adventure...

2006-09-06T20:23:00.000-04:00

It is said... long ago the peasant mortal Da-Ge found his heart captured by the beauty of the goddess WoLuo SeMo. In lavishing gifts of his adoration upon her, each failed, only serving as a further testament of the goddess' beauty as each appeared as nothing more than paltry trinket within her radiance. Upon much meditation, Da-Ge discovered that nothing could match WoLuo SeMo aside from WoLuo SeMo herself. Using great ingenuity, Da-Ge crafted a mirror great enough to frame the glory of his love. But the mortal world is not hospitable to such truth, and before the gift might be presented an unnamed evil swatted the mirror to the ground, shattering the glass into 114 pieces upon the rough earth. These shards, having only glimpsed at the beauty of WoLuo SeMo, would become the lakes and rivers that brought life to JiuZhaiGou.

It is said... that during an age of great prosperity, the people of the GuGe Kingdom suffered a forgotten tragedy that forced an exodus from their homelands in Tibet. As the diaspora moved from land to land, the people growing ever further from their kind and kin, a promise was made. A sign would be set, a sign that would lead the peoples of the GuGe Kingdom to reunite; if not in this world then in the next. So it was declared that wherever they roamed, when they found hospice the universal name would be given to the settlement. That name is YangTong, a name scattered amongst the beauty of JiuZhaiGou like snow on the early winter's earth.

It is said... that one day I will finish this travelogue, and dagnabit, I'm going to. So if anyone is still reading out there, I'm making the big push to the end. I'm sure thats why I'm put it off, or at least one good reason, as with the completion of these accounts I close a chapter of life that meant a lot. Luckily the book still has a lot left in it.

Just ChengDu It!

2006-07-15T22:23:00.000-04:00

The train arrived in GuiYang before I had a chance to enact revenge upon Senior Fartypants. I found a hotel and bedded down for the night. My next train left early the following morning; destination: ChengDu, the capital of SiChuan (or "Szechuan," for those of you who enjoy the Taste). GuiYang, or at least what I witnessed, was pretty much gross incarnate. What did strike me as odd was how the entire world of the omnipresent Chinese street market was actually 30 feet below street level. Maybe the modern city had been built above the traditional areas of commerce, but regardless, a deep trench that ran alongside each major thoroughfare gave light to a bustling stall economy that I would have explored given more time (lost due to that damn HK snafu). I did enjoy a tasty dish of huiguorou (twice cooked pork), a favorite of mine and indigenous to the region I was headed towards.

My fellow passengers on the train to ChengDu were kind and courteous, and I'll speak no ill of their company. The story here passed outside the confines of my car and was told through staccatoes of steep mountain and fertile valley, with accents of small, isolated villages and an ongoing theme of rape.

"Rape: not being in the "raping and pillaging" sense so much as the "canola oil" sense. Though canola oil can get surly at times...

But winding through the numerous hamlets between GuiYang and ChengDu it took no imagination to see how the Chinese view their spoken language as being split in a thousand different directions, just as it might have seemed obvious to QinShiHuang, the first emperor of China, how the written language itself varied with each hill and dale. I was glad I didn't have to deal with this division so much, as my Chinese was as clear and state-mandatedly uniform as a foreigner could hope to be.

But now I come to ChengDu. A few notes before we start, courtesy of my friends at Wikipedia, one of my favorite blocked-by-the-PRC websites (my own included upon this list), have to say about ChengDu and the province of SiChuan:
- The area lies in the Sichuan basin and is surrounded by the Himalaya to the west, Qinling Range to the north, and mountainous areas of Yunnan to the south. The Yangtze River flows through the basin and thus is upstream to areas of eastern China. The Minjiang River, in central Sichuan is a tributary of the upper Yangtze River, which it joins at Yibin.
- Sichuan is known as the "Land of Abundance."
- A number of China's rockets (Long March rockets) and satellites has been launched from the Xichang Satellite Launch Center, located in the city of Xichang.

Mostly poxy babble as far as my tongue was concerned. Here are two notes that got my buds flowin':
- The Sichuan cuisine is famous for being very spicy, but in fact only slightly more than 30 % of dishes officially labeled "local" rely on chili pepper. The reputation for hot food is, however, much older than the use of peppers, which became common only in the 17-18th century.
- Chengdu's cuisine is considered to be one of China's most outstanding. The many local specialties include Grandma Chen's Bean Curd (Mapo doufu), Chengdu Hot pot, and Carrying Pole Noodles (Dan Dan Noodles).

Thank you, Wikipedia. This blog brought to you by the letter "C."

Arriving in ChengDu I needed my plan. The next goal, a goal that was the big reason for traveling to this corner of China, was JiuZhaiGou. Finding the long distance bus station, consulting the timetables and my own schedule, and it was ruled that I had a day in ChengDu. Best to do all I could.

First was housing. Going to my trusty Lonely Planet, I found a hostel that suited my needs. Located down a muddy alley-way, I got a bed in a shared room for about $3. My roommate was cool (he had been bumming around Asia for 4 months at that point, had 2 more to go) but the magnificence came in the structure of the place. Built in the traditional courtyard style, the 4-tiered establishment had only two bathroom areas and a kitchen with spotty hours but life that kept going 24 hours a day. People gathered in the center picnic table area to practice languages, play chess, share a beer, or just trade stories. I gave a few of my own (most centered around "Your Chinese is ver good!" and "I could never travel around this country alone like you are!") but didn't care to dillydally. I had limited time in ChengDu.

And hysterical signs to photograph.

No comment. Or too many.

Being known for the cuisine, I beelined for a restaraunt to treat myself to some good lunch. Finding one, and a table, I ordered what became a 12 (count it, 12) course lunch. One thing I love about Chinese food is that they will serve you many many dishes, giving you an opportunity to enjoy a great variety of flavor in one sitting. And since little of it is incredibly filling, getting most of it down isn't too difficult. I wish I could give more detail towards what I ingested that day, but now, a few months later, and menus being my weakest point of Chinese, I couldn't say much without authority except that it was delicious.

Lunch took court in the center of ChengDu, which I am sad to say looks like the center of any Chinese city to me by now. Statue of Mao, Dior outlet. Big outdoor square, McDonalds and KFC. Lots of neon. Great. Homogenization. While I am happy that I might find a Starbucks for a caffeine fix when I crave one, I do wish the world offered more of the delights of individuality that flourished prior to the sweep of globalization.

But I digress.

After the greatest lunch of China it was a temple stop, and like most temples by now, it wasn't much to impress. The shock came outside the walls, and its not too pleasant of one, so skip the next paragraph if you're squeamish.

You were warned, and this might not you as it hit mon capitain, but its a story nonetheless. Outside the temple were beggars, but the most disfigured beggars I'd seen in China. Sad to say, but according to stories on the street and urban legends, folks of this kind are usually rounded up and sent away from the eyes of tourists and Olympic Committees. ChengDu's must have slipped through the net. Often I can pass by with indifference, maybe through the spare coins rattling my pocket to the least annoying of a bunch, but one here actually frightened me. It was a woman, and if you kept your eyes below her neck you'd take her to be as any other over-plump Chinese mom. But here face... well... imagine the almost faceless represenation of "Pink" from one of my favorite albums, "The Wall." The dark, empty black eyes, the motionless mouth, the formless nose. Now burn the christ out of the eerie flatness of that face so that the skin melts and drips down upon itself, to the point that certain tendrils dangle from the bone structure's most precipitous points. Add a voice that wails and shrieks in undiscernable waves and you've got the nightmare I found hard to face outside that temple. The emotion that gurgled in my bowels didn't make me proud.

But inside the temple's walls were oddly (yet pleasingly) manipulated trees! Yay!

There was another temple after that, the second of the day being a Daoist. I hadn't seen many a Daoist temple during my travels, and this one proved elegantly interesting. Then there was a woman who could bring you past St. Peter's Gate through what she could do with your feet, and even some Kung-fu tea service, a local tradition where the server pours the boiling water into your cup through a series of acrobatic positioning. A haircut was involved. Dinner too.

Dinner gave the last interesting story of ChengDu. I found a greasy chopstick down the alley from my hostel, one that looked promising (the name didn't incorporate "fish" or "noodles," neither of which I wanted). Sitting down and asking for a menu, it was quickly realized, yet again, that this foreigner spoke Chinese.

"What do you want, sir?"
"I don't care. Make it spicy. ChengDu is famous for spicy foods, so give me something spicy."
"How spicy?"
"Very spicy. The spiciest you've got."

Well, I got what amounted to a bowl of peppers with some chicken floating within, and a few hallucinations later, it was delicious.

But the best part came in the company. Spotted by a mother, some young boy came over to my table and muttered some English. I spewed Chinese (remember, Sichuan spicy food --> hallucinations... it was like being drunk on spicy) and quickly had a friend who wanted to prove all his English through song and dance. Basically a floor show. As I clapped and dazed along, his mother joined me at my table, gifting a few beers. We talked about education and the state of China's children, the boy sang the alphabet, and in the end I was smiling like a Cheshire Cat. And that mother even paid for my dinner. Belly full, feet tired, hair cut; sleep came to ChengDu.

...High On Methane

2006-07-07T16:52:00.000-04:00

There are certian sensibilities which I believe are accepted world 'round. "Thou Shalt Not Kill," I think, is a good example. No culture that I know of smiles upon senseless/useless killing (thus excluding deaths under warrior codes and religioius sacrifice).

I'd like to add another axiom to this list.

"Strangers* Shalt Not Fart On Strangers."

After a relaxing trio of days in GuiLin, time came to head on with my journey. Pressed for time thanks to the annoying Hong Kong hold-over, I decided to bee-line for ChengDu, bypassing a trip into the GuiZhou country-side to mingle with minorities. But to get to ChengDu I needed to swap trains in GuiYang, maybe 15 hours away. So early that morning I cabbed to meet a 5AM train (it came late) and eventually nuzzled into the bottom bunk of my sleeper berth.

I couldn't sleep too long, however, as around 730AM I found a hefty middle-aged man sitting on my legs. I knew he was on my legs because not only did his girth keeep me from turning around, but it kept the blood from my lower extremities. I don't like losing the feeling in any part of my body, especially not while sleeping, so I did what I could to crane my neck in his directions and politely informed him that he was sitting on me.

He just giggled. He didn't laugh, or question, or answer. He giggled. Like a 50ish, overweight, Chinese schoolgirl.

So I repeated that he was on my legs and it wasn't very comfortable. Could he please move?

He giggled more, pointed at me, then ripped on. Straight up, no holds barred, fart. Right on me.

For a moment I wanted to be back in Hong Kong. And I wish I could say the guy got no more annoying throughout the rest of the day, but that'd be a lie. He continued to sit on me, and even played poker on my ass. Eventually he wised up that I spoke Chinese (he had been bad mouthing me all day) and started asking me loaded questions that I obviously was not going to answer. Questions like "If the US and China went to war during the Cold War, who would win, and who would the USSR ally with, and would Americans still like KFC?"

Man was I glad to get to GuiYang, even if it was a dump.

*I say "strangers" because otherwise I'd be putting myself in self-incriminating position. I am the oldest of four children, I did spent five years (4 in high school) living in dorms, and I do like Terrence and Phillip.

Of Trees and Troglodytes

2006-06-28T13:55:00.000-04:00

The Li River experience, sadly, had to come to an end. Luckily, it came to end in Yang Shuo, described by the Lonely Planet (my bible, though often out of date in China) as "a backpacker's paradise." Sure enough, as I trammed my way around the town I passed many a bar, coffee shop, sky-diving service, 'spider climbing' outposts, and a whole lotta English. The availability of English might have struck the loudest and oddest chord, as nearby GuiLin, a much larger city, didn't have so much. Perhaps this is one of the many reasons adventurous Occidentals label Yang Shuo a 'paradise.'

But i had no time for these things, as my full day tour quickly whisked me onward to the late afternoon's activities. Four were promised, and I didn't need to translate the guide's spiel to understand one would incorporate another whole-sale outlet, conveniently included into the package for my shopping disgust and my guide's commissionable delight.

1. The Requisite Temple
OK. By this point in my China time, any old temple was just going to be any old temple to me. The trip to this holy spot outside Yang Shuo's populated area provided more entertainment and wonder then then temple itself. The scenery included more of those karst uprisings, but instead of river in between, people and farmland. Sure, we passed over one (dis)tributary that came complemented with a small docking of river-folk, but for the most part water had been supplanted with crop.

Oh? The temple itself? Well, I didn't take any pictures and spent most of the time just keeping out of the way of the masses. I didnt even bother to try to remember the name of the shrine. If you want an in-depth review of a more positive temple experience, search other spots along this blog. I promise more than enough.

2. The Big Banyan Tree
Across the street from El Templo Aburrido sits THE BIGGEST BANYAN TREE I HAVE EVER IMAGINED!!! Sure, I don't spend much time imagining anything hornicultural, and yeah, maybe I didn't even know exactly what a banyan tree was before seeing this barky brain, but that's not the point. If you want to become a banyan buff, check out this site for some more detailed info from one who knows more than I: http://www.plantcultures.org.uk/plants/banyan_landing.html

Walking through a brief line of trees likely established to keep freeloaders out than benefit nature in any sense I followed the path through a large field of wild flowers till this cerebellumesque growth rose up in front of me. It might be difficult to discern from the picture, but the circumference of the big banyan might have been over 30 yards, and someone told me the total area underneath the branches totalled more than a couple hectares. Simply put: this baby was massive and deserved the name "Big Banyan." I know none bigger.

Aside the shade of the banyan ripples a small lagoon with a few sampans drifting around. Not a big deal after navigating Hong Kong's harbors, but I did find a kindred spirit. Perched within one of the small boats sat a hunched old man with a simple squirt gun of the pull to suck full/push to shoot variety. He kept his gun pretty active, hitting as many women in the backs of their heads as possible, snickering to himself the entire time. I, too, snickered to myself. This was far better than that temple.

3. The Neolithic Village
This might have been the dumbest thing I saw in China. Getting off the bus my two dogged ears picked up some odd sounds echoing from out between the karst, but I paid them no heed. We were supposedly going to inspect an archaeological dig, one giving evidence towards some of the earliest signs of human culture. Stone-age tools and weapons were promised. Anthropological data would be in both Chinese and English. My inner Indiana smiled.

The entranceway led to large bamboo huts with a path marked around their edges. The walls held posters and beneath glass cases displayed artifacts. This went on for maybe two huts. Cool enough, though nothing terribly exciting. Then we reached the "Cave of Time..."

Ooooohooohoohoohoooooooo!

"Be careful from here on, because now we are going to walk through this cave and travel back in time to the days of the earliest man in Yang Shuo," so sayeth the guide, unconvincingly.

Great. We walked down the steps to enter "The Cave of Time" and I half expected a Sleestack attack until I realized Sid & Marty Krofft would never allow for such shoddy effects. Emerging on the other side the guide explained to us the rules of the locals, to be followed if we wished to keep our lives:
- Dont look them in the eyes, and dont touch them
- If they say "ungababunga," its a sign of friendship, and you should say "ungababunga" back or dishonor them
- If you hear a "tunkatunka" cry, bop your fist against your chest then throw it in the air shouting "dugdug." Someone is testing to see if you are an armed enemy or not.
- If they rub their fingers together, they are asking for a sacrifice to their gods. Cash will do.

From this point on I didn't know how to react. Part of me wanted to crack up and laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it all. These "tribals" were wearing cheap bikinis and loinclothes made out of leopard and zebra print polyester and many had bones stuck anywhere they found room. Faces were painted (and we all required a smudge across the cheek to enter the village) and spears chucked. Numerous men tried to get the jump on us by hiding in trees.

But part of me almost lost temper. Again, I'm white with blue eyes and stand about 5'10. In southern China, I stand out rather easily. This grabbed the attention of too many villagers. Countless poked and prodded me, let it be swirling my hair, grasping my arms, or getting up close to my face, that I swore the next primate that so much as touched me would face the wrath of my boomstick. At one point they invited me to blow on their horn, which they said no one could do without proper practice. I didn't want to do it, but I was forced, and thanks to many years in elementary band where I played a plethora of horns, I got a good blow going. So much that a half dozen tribesmen dropped to their knees and began rubbing their fingers for a sacrifice. Finally was a song and dance deal that I avoided by making a sprint for the bathroom (behavior i perfected while at day camp many years ago) successfully avoiding a major money trap. These might not seem like great annoyances when blogged, but as it was constant and invasive and I was alone, it was a test.

I can't begin to sufficiently express my annoyance at this site. I don't even want to think about it any longer.

4. Mandatory Shopping Outlet
On the way back to GuiLin we stopped at a crystal emporium. Nothing to note. Seen it before, hoped I wouldn't see it again.

He Jes' Keeps Rollin' Along...

2006-06-26T14:49:00.000-04:00

Al Green hit the nail on the head. While wrestling with the tempting evils of a vile seductress he called for the cleansing promise of the river to heal his tattered soul.

After a year of flirting insanity through employment and the nasty adventus interruptus in Hong Kong my soul had a few tatters. And then I found my river.

I was raised close to the rough beaches of Cape Ann, Massachusetts, setting for yarns like "The Perfect Storm" and many a Lovecraftian tale. The proximity to the cold Atlantic instilled an awe towards the beauty and power of the mystic water and I'm never truly happy when I'm too far landlocked. If I needed to join the armed forces I'd bee-line to my nearest Navy office because I know that no matter what else is happening around me that I can find calm staring out over moving water.

And on that day in March I found the most beautiful stretch of river I have been lucky to roll down to this day.

It was an unforgettable experience, and a pillar of my China experience. Despite any complaint I have or ever will file against anything in the Middle Kingdom, memories of the Li River will quickly distract me to forget them.

Signing up for a day-long tour package I met an early morning bus to go out to the docks. The Li River tour is incredibly popular, and the local tourist board has prepared itself to meet high demands. Dozens of large cruise boats awaited throngs of passengers, rows of ships four deep stacked as far down the banks as I cared to look. I shuffled aboard what resembled a giant goldfish, found a window seat, and patiently awaited to disembark.

Despite the large number of ships heading downriver that day (though not the max, as it wasn't peak season) there was never a crowd as we puttered through the day. In fact, at many a time I couldn't see another vessel of our size. Sure, there were tons of small craft making their way this way and that, but it only added to the majesty of the travel. They also added some delicious snacks, as many of the gondoliers would push up alongside and hawk fresh fruits and sugar cane.

The weather wasn't quite as clear and blue as one might have wished, in fact, it was quite foggy. But much as with my time in Xi'An, this only added a mystery to the landscape that jumpstarted my imagination. So making my way to the top deck I found a corner to lean into, plugged into the ol' 40G, and opened my face to the wind and the beauty.

The green of the foliage rollede down the steep karst formations, falling pellmell into the green of the water that cut amongst it all. Along the banks we past a few huts, some quite large, but none too crowded or threatening. At night, with the proper score, proper lighting, and proper drugs, you might think you were cruising deep into Coppola's darkest Apocaplypse. But in the wet chill of my day, it was a calm refresher.

Now and then some private boats pulled into caves carved into the rockside, but our ship had no time for such frivolity. We just kept pushing down river, sending out horn blasts to oncoming tour boats (no others seemed to benefit from our own's carp-like appearance) and weaving through the shallows till we reached Yang Shuo.

I'll let the pictures fill you in on the rest of the details.

In Chinese, "Moutain" + "Water" = "Scenery"

2006-06-15T21:14:00.000-04:00

I would eventually make it back into China, though with less time and much less cash than expected. But this wasn't going to upset a seasoned China Traveler such as yours truly too much: there was adventure to be had.

But first I had to get to that adventure. The successful route went as such: from Wan Chai on Hong Kong island I boarded a bus that took me to the border crossing in ShenZhen. Getting through immigration (yes!) I found another bus to go to GuangZhou.

GuangZhou, someone once told me, was the "Los Angeles of China." Taking a quick look around, I agreed: GuangZhou was huge and there was nothing to hold my interest to keep me there any longer than I needed to be. I strolled a few kilometers to find the train station, bought a ticket, then ran some errands, one of which meant going to a bank (I had a handful of HK$ left in my pocket that was now useless). Going to the bank never really scored high on my excitement chart, but my eyes bulged when I witnessed the wad the woman whipped out (more alliteration! more GENIUS!). Hefting two bulging plastic shopping bags, little ol' Grandma dumped piles upon piles of 100RMB notes on the counter. There was easily more than I had earned within my year's salary. Why so much cash had taken so long to reach the safety of a bank, I don't know, but I'd heard that many Chinese are skeptical of stowing their savings away anywhere they can't see it. As for the shopping bags: anyone's guess.

Eventually the train would depart, me in my sleeper bunk. Early the next morning (around 6AM) we hit my destination: GuiLin.

There are so many proverbs, folktales, and historical anecdotes attesting to GuiLin's scenery that little is left to be said. Apparently this region of China was once submerged under the sea, leaving incredibly drastic karst formations every which place you look. Civilization creeped in around this uprisings and along rivers like the Li. And since my bags were safe in my hotel room by 7:30 AM, I had plenty of time that first day to take as much in as I could.

Much of GuiLin followed the tried and true civil planning of any Chinese city: big public square, market street, pedestrian/high end shopping street, park, temple, etc. And while all this was everything I had seen before, GuiLin executed it in a laid back manner that made everything their own. If only for the constant reminder supplied by those huge rocky up-croppings. I'd spend a log of time walking a few streets and playing it easy here; sure enough if there was any time during my travels in China when I actually slowed my pace and relaxed; it was here in GuiLin.

Lazy mornings spent in coffee shops along the boulevard. Strolls up, around, and under hallowed rocks. Nights sitting on the promenade enjoying frozen treats as fishermen hawked sampan tours. Meals of noodles with horse meat and "beer fish." I'm not sure what "beer fish" is, but I present Exhibit A in the argument for culinary synergy. As for horse meat: not as tender as donkey, nor nearly as flavorful.

A couple years ago a fellow Hoya and SFSer came through this town and left an indelible mark. I guess he gave some speech on global environmentalism and preserving natural wonders. His name was also Bill. You might have heard of him. This Bill left a mark of his own, well, maybe more of a memento. But I guarantee whoever found them won't forget them anytime soon.

Red Cornered

2006-06-10T20:39:00.000-04:00

The slash of light from what I presumed would be my feeding window awoke me a slick on the rough concrete floor that could only have come from the room's sole occupant: yours truly. Whether that slick and the sweet sick twisting my mouth were one and the same I couldn't know, but that wasn't might biggest worry of the moment. Neither was reclining, for in a 1.5 meter by too short space I was bunched up against the wall no matter where I tried to lean.
I hoped they would be pushing something through that window soon, though. I was getting hungry. But I didn't hold my breath. Nor did I expect a fresh sorbet to clean that foulness from my palate.
The last thing I could remember before finding myself here was jamming my paw into the inside of my jacket. I vaguely remember hitting the floor after that. I don't really remember the blow to the head, but the after-effects were certainly present as cribnotes.
The ordeal took place at the border crossing: a hot, sweaty, crowded foci of confusion, angst, and ill-temperment. Making my way through as a sole speck of salt in a sea of saffron certainly solicited several sequential stares (alliteration! GENIUS!), and yes, more than the ordinary. But while exiting Hong Kong emersed the traveler in the pleasant bubbling mass I had become accustomed to during my time in the Mainland, re-entering threw me into an odd solitude.
Then it tured out I didn't have the proper papers, resulting in an even solitude. Of a cell. Preceeded by a beating.
Why did this all happen? I had a visa, recently re-newed. I should have been let in, for all I knew. But confusion erupted and I tried to make due with my Chinese, but I guess when I said "my friend will settle this matter" and reached for my cell phone someone thought my "friend" was a firearm and "settle this matter" meant kill anyone who opposed my point of view, which conveniently enough is the predominant understanding of the American attitude towards any international affair by most non-Americans.
Now i wish I could claim this was true, especially because then there would certainly be a happy ending (since I'm now in the glorious Commonwealth of Massachusetts) but the true story is not this interesting. To set the record straight (and cage my overactive hyperbolic tendency):

FACT: I was booted out of the mainland and back to Hong Kong
FACT: I did have a visa but apparently not the right one
FACT: I did reach (and use) my cell phone against the wishes of some officer
FACT: I was sequestered in a cubicle all by myself with no clear explanation
FACT: I did use my Chinese to get through this, but all was understood just fine
FACT: I was escorted out of the mainland by armed guards
NOT-FACT: I was beaten
NOT-FACT: I was locked in a cell of any sort
NOT-FACT: Paul McCartney's post-Beatles work exceeds that of John Lennon's

Turns out some genius (likely the same who left getting me the new visa TILL THE LAST MOMENT after I had set the wheel in motion 2 months in advance) gave me a visa to get back into China that wouldnt let me back into China. It wasnt an extension, it was a "zero-entry" visa. What good a "zero-entry" visa is, I dunno. Its not even thick enough to be a good coaster. And it certainly isnt good enough to get back into the Mainland. So I got booted back to the Fragrant Harbor for 3 days and 2 nights of chasing down visas and affordable accomadations. All in all, during that short period of time I was forced to spend the equivalent I would spend in almost 2 WEEKS in the mainland. I was pissed. Low point of my travel. And I do hold a grudge against the putz who fucked it all up for me.

Episode IV: A New Hope

2006-05-13T19:34:00.000-04:00

Landing in Hong Kong... well... I was uncomfortable.

For over a year I had been living in China, mainland China. I won't say I had gone local, but I had at least come to equate my standards with that of what surrounded me. Hong Kong...

Think of those sci fi movies that might have brought you awe in the 1970s but now bring scoff. Now think of those movies not as movies, but as actual life. Thats Hong Kong.

Moving walkways. Superfast trains. Blinding neon lights. Every possible convenience made as convenient as possible. Which isn't to say the city is not without its price, sho' nuff, its expensive as hell. But I don't think I've ever been as wowed by a city as I was by Hong Kong. My father immediately ranked it in his top three most dramatic cities, up with San Francisco and some other metropolis that I can't recall.

And, as a side note, the women are devastatingly gorgeous.

From the airport to the hotel (via uber-quiet, ultra-fast train system) we wound through forest, hill, port, industry, till we hit commerce. Getting settled, we hit the streets to head to the Peak, Hong Kong's highest point. Walking along the streets, it was easy to see that this city sweated capitalism... so much money... it did intimidate me. Expecially after a year in Harbin. But luckily as long as my parents were around I was not spending any of my own, so, "meiguanxi!"

Now to ascend The Peak one must take the Peak Tram, but I couldn't concentrate on any of this as Clavellian drama kept leaping through my little head. Distractions soon disapated once we hit the summit and the breathtaking panorama that is Hong Kong spread itself wide upon in front of us. I wish I knew more about architecture to capture the beauty that lay in front of us, and I wish the weather had been a bit more clear so that my camera could have done a better job taking the place of my words... but... wow.

Now I gotta state that I did have one problem with Hong Kong: for the time that we were there, it was clear that for the most part we were going to focus on shopping or simply exploring the city. Where in BeiJing one might hunt down cultural/historic landmarks, or in HangZhou wander through tea fields and kilns, here, well, we we're going to shop. So be it. Luckily Hong Kong is a British city in full regards suplanted upon Asia, so the windy streets, intense neighborhoods, and money combined with the whole Asian flavor of it all kept me entertained wherever we went.

One night I bounded about (solo) in Wan Chai, hitting a few pubs and dodging some enthusiastic women. I did find great entertainment taking in a rugby match with some true Brits, also in how one fellow bar rat had trained his 2 year old to snag him pints from behind the bar. Another night we wandered Kowloon hunting for the perfect fake purse. During the days we explore each corner of the island, and if I can rec' a taxi ride, take one from Aberdeen to Stanley along the South China Sea. The cliffs drop away to the water in a way so pronouced that you never might realize greena and blue might be so different. The thin beaches that seperated land from sea provide only a pencil-thin reminder of reality... but the markets at the end of the ride will snap you right back into that oh-so-fun bargaining mode.

In Aberdeen we hit up one of the quintessetial tourist activities for Hong Kong, one so crucial to my experience I'd classify it as a duty to anyone who reads this blog and finds themselves in Hong Kong one day. Aberdeen harbor itself won't give you the melodramatic shock that you might find in "Tai Pan," but it will give you one of the world's largest floating restaurants. The only way to get to the eatery is by sampan. Well, skip the restaurant and take a seperate sampan tour of the harbor. Weaving in and out of the boat people while never leaving site of the striking sky scrapers will give you a good idea that no matter how far Asia might move into the future its past will never be forsaken.

But we didn't limit ourselves to British imperialism, oh, no sir-ree-bob!

One day we did jump a HOVERCRAFT to Macao. Now:
1. When I was a boy I begged Santa Claus one year for a single gift, forsaking anything else (save underwear) for the single joy that was Tyco's Typhoon. What was the Typhoon? A remote controlled hovercraft. Years ahead of the standard RC car technology of the day. I had to wait months till I could actually use it, but man was it awesome. And ever since I've been fascinated my hovercrafts, enough so that when I found that my pre-teen text book brought up the subject while I was teaching English class got a little hi-jacked to indulge in my interest. Needless to say, that lesson went over a few heads.
2. Macao was a Portuguese settlement. I know nothing about Portugal and always wanted to know more. Its a small country on the west of Spain and its well known for its cork and... naval power during the 15th century.
So Macao promised to tickle my interest. It did. Enough for a day's excursion through the even more claustrophobic streets that wound up and down the hills. I couldn't understand any language here, seemed like a combo of Chinese/English/Portuguese reigned. There certainly were casinos galore, but I stuck to the hill forts, Jesuit cathedrals, and coffe shops.

Hong Kong was pretty much awesome, the perfect afterdinner mint to a wonderful feast of China adventure with my parents. They were set to depart, full of stories and experiences of their venture into Asia, I was ready to charge headlong back into mainland China, all full of piss and vinegar. I had run my feet through the South China Sea, supped upon shark fin, and now it was time to return to my home of the past year. Or...

Intermezzo

2006-04-28T09:37:00.000-04:00

OK. I don't get a huge kick out of writing my travelogues as 1. there is so much I feel obligated to put in, activity-wise, it take me a long time to organize and plan my attack, 2. I am not creative enough to think of a better way of attacking other than the straight narrative, which isn't too exciting to write continuously, 3. they usually get so long I cut out my trademark tangents, which I miss 4. some of these pictures from the recent trip, taken on other cameras than my own, seem to have the tendency to be obscenely huge and keep crashing Blogger's alloted memory space, and 4. I'm easily distracted.

I'll finish up the notes on the last great adventure around China (for now) I promise, but I'll be condensing the text and the ramble. Probably rely much more on pictures and straight reporting.

Finally, word of warning: more and more of my friends have warned me of the dangers of internet publicity. The latest tale has worried me enough that I will soon dawn a mask of anonymity for the site. That is to say, if you are a regular reader and wish to remain one, BOOKMARK THE SITE NOW!!! If you find the site at your leisure by a silly Google search, well, that option will disappear in the very near future. Likely within the week. You have been warned.

Now.

Lets all go to the lobby, lets all go to the lobby, lets all go to the lobby and get ourselves a snack!

Episode III: Die HangZhou, Die (German for "The HangZhou, The")

2006-04-11T09:15:00.000-04:00

COMPLETED 4/28/06

Anyone who speaks German can't be evil. But what about Chinese?

Traveling by train can be a wonderful experience, especially when your parents are springing for the VIP cabin. The difference between the sleepers is that a standard cabin has 6 bunks, a VIP 4. The VIP has a door. The beds have more padding. And the travelers you'll find yourself sharing this limited space with are much more polite. I've got more thana fair share of stories from less-than-comfortable experiences on trains, but that'll be another post.

We woke up and pulled into HangZhou on that, my parents' fifth day in China. The night before I had booked a pair of hotel rooms via a brand new booking service. I've whined before about the lack of ability to reserve rooms, so this certainly came as a boon towards my sanity. Especially while breaking in some newbies to China. We still had some worries as we stepped off that train though, as we had no idea how we would get to Hong Kong a few days later. The train that everybody else told me existed didn't exist, so new options needed to be explored.

Before I chronicle any further you must know that HangZhou had been placed on our itinerary for many a reason. Just south of ShangHai, HangZhou stands as one of China's two most 'beautiful' cities, an honor shared with SuZhou ("The Garden City") which is right north of ShangHai. Furthermore, HangZhou sits towards the end of the waterways that transported goods around China during imperial times, leading to a large amount of commerce in the area. You'll find a wealthy supply of silks and a dirth of ceramics and other crafts were you to visit. Most of the town sits around West Lake, a serene body of water that holds a few island gardens, some floating shrines, and ringed by pagoda and temple.

But more than anything else we were going to HangZhou because I had been there before, back during my 1997 trip. Back in that day, HangZhou had been our second stop, right after ShangHai, and it had been little more than a quaint little lake town with a handful of sleepy stores and good deals on silk. We visited a silk factory, a ceramic museum/workshop, a temple, a pagoda, toured the lake on small boats. All in all, very quaint, very quiet, very relaxing.

HangZhou has changed. A lot. Not in any sort of bad way though, in fact, if I can give a testament to the development potential of China, I'd probably use HangZhou. The lake, still quite peaceful, is now lined with bistos, experimental cookeries, high end shopping, funky bars, and an all-around hip vibe. The serene nature of the region hasn't disappeared, they've just BAM! kicked it up a notch. I had hope to give my parent's a flavor of 'real' China, that is the China that isn't all spruced up for tourists,, the China that makes up the large majority of the nation, but, well, who cares. HangZhou is beautiful.

Our hotel (which I don't think was there in 1997) cost only a fraction more per room than our BeiJing lodgings, but could have been the poshest hotel rooms I've ever stayed in. Certainly top 2. Settling in took a while because I wanted to spoil myself with each comfort that had been void ini my life over the previous year. When I finally got pried from luxury, I hit up the front desk to figure out travel arrangements to Hong Kong. Plane tickets were purchased, my Chinese was complimented over and over (yes!), and we hit the streets of HangZhou.

In BeiJing we (we being me) had been successful in staving off shopping excursions till the end of the available time, but in HangZhou we tried to get it out of the way first thing. Not too far from our hotel they've just about finished constructing a little silk commodity village in old-timey architectural style. You've got to bargain, as you do almost anywhere, but the deals will beat anything anywhere else. Plus I found a much higher quality of item, and a larger selection, than I ever found in BeiJing. At least in regards to silk. By the end of the morning I was silk-blind having examined countless scarves. I saw some ties I liked, but they had nothing but the display models, which were stained, so I saved my money for later (I eventually scored some ties).

Next up we headed out west from West Lake to LingYin Temple (pardon if I mucked up the name). I had visited this site in '97 and I'm glad I got back. One of the larger temples I've seen, and secluded away from the city in the woods, the outside is ringed with grottoes holding stone carvings of Buddha and all his pals. Inside the temple there are at leaast four large halls strung up the middle, each with gigantic statues of Buddhas and other various gods. The size is amazing alone, but the isn't to say they are delicate nor beautiful as well. You're not allowed to take pictures inside the halls, and I lack the talent to accurately describe what yo'd witness there, so either use your imagination or go yourself. You'll be happy you did.

A new treat at LingYin was the Hall of Arhats which I don't remember from '97 (we were rushed through during that trip, probably not afforded the time to check this out). In a structure to the left of the central walk we found a cross-shaped call holding 500 unique statues, each depicting a different disciple of Buddha. If you've been reading the blog for a while, you might recall these dudes catching my fascination at the Bamboo Temple in KunMing, and sure enough, they succeeded once more in HangZhou. The blend of the surreal with such realistic sculpting defines 'cool' to this adventurer, and again, I wish I could have taken pictures. Alas.

[INTERMISSION: I'll finish the HangZhou entry later, I need to stretch my legs now and get away from the computer. Hang tight.]

The next few days around HangZhou were filled with relaxed wonder. As I mentioned, the lake area has only gotten hip as all hell, and we took a small boat cruise around to take in the island gardens, the "three pools mirroring the moon," and a few water pagodas that are the most famous of their kind in China. Why, I am not sure, but I have seen other structures of similar build in other locations but no one gave a crap about those. Here, in HangZhou, everyone was gaga for the dealies.

After taking in the lake from the boat, we stolled around the better part of it stopping at a few points of interest. Most notably was the tomb of some dude (its been too long and I don't have my notes in front of me so i apologize for the lack of clarity in Mr. Somedude's proper name) which, by this point, was not interesting in the least. For me. After 1+ years of seeing similar sights of greater magnificance. But it was hystrerical knocking on the big holy statue only to come close to tipping it over because all it was was cheap, hollow plastic. Not bronze. Oh, crazy.

Our last big stop in HangZhou during our last full day there was the Six Wind Pagoda. This was another case of deja vu, as I had visited here back in 1997. This time, though, having all the free time to explore as I wished, I once again found many a thing that captivated me more than the whirlwind tour gave me years back. Most notably, really, only, as there was nothing else I hadn't seen, the Pagoda Garden. What they did here was re-construct, on a much smaller scaller, the 108 (I think) most famous Chinese pagodas. Cool, as I bounded from one to another searching for those I had seen in actuality with my own two eyes. In all, the garden acted like a crib sheet for my own adventures, just in pagoda form.

Eventually we were to leave HangZhou, hopping a plane to Hong Kong. I was not prepared.

Episode II: The Wrath of Mahm

2006-04-10T08:46:00.000-04:00

Leaving ShenYang gave a great feeling, for not did it mark the true beginning of an independent journey (I could rely on my Chinese friend in ShenYang, but from here on out only my own ability would keep me going), not only would it bring reunion with the loving parental units, but it was departure from the frigid cold of El DongBei! (Spanish/Chinese for "The DongBei [Northeast])

So another train ride, this one marked by a friendly seatmate informing me of the atrocities the Japanese had ravaged upon his Chinese countrymen in WW2, aka The War Against the Japanese. Hours later, I was once again in BeiJing, soon checked in to a cool boutique hotel behind the Forbidden City, and before sleep came feasting on meats and treats on sticks.

They arrived the next day. Spending the morning wandering around, searching for some good travel reading more than anything else, I eventually got to the airport to greet the Venerable Honkeys that are Bill Sr. & Mary Alice ("Mahm," get it? Phoenetics!). Hugs and handshakes exchanged, gasps over lost weight gasped, and all other pleasantries aside; it didn't take long for the culture shock to set in. "Oh my gods" and "Why do theys" and "I can't understands" began as soon as the cab ride set out from the airport. I was proud of my parents and looking forward to an educational and eye-opening experience over the next ten or so days.

Now, BeiJing is BeiJing and I've spent more time there than I have in New York City, but as I was guiding some noobs around we hit the required spots. That first evening we played it easy, strolling up and down WangFuJing and dining at QuanJuDe Roast Peking Duck Palace. Day 2 started a little rough: turns out some major credit card companies hold minor caveats with their issuing banks that might make your account unaccessable in Mainland China. On top of that, turns out some major credit card companies like to assign you passwords for your credit card without telling you making it difficult to obtain a cash advance from an ATM. Luckily, as an experienced China traveler, I was able to fix this problem (took longer than it should, however, though we were exhausting each possible solution down the ladder in order of ease and logic) and we struck out for the Summer Palace. No commentary necessary on that. Afterwards we had planned on visiting the Forbidden City but couldn't (more in a second) so we hit the Temple of Heaven and concluded with the Pearl Market.

First, about the Forbidden City: turns out the National People's Congress was in session while we in BeiJing. This is the once-every five years meeting of representatives from all over the Middle Kingdom, and as it draws a good bit of media attention the city was swept clean of dirt and beggars. I was a bit disappointed, as this kept my parents from seeing the "real" BeiJing, also because they were randomly (as far as I knew) closing certain points of interest so the delegates might tour unhindered. For their convenience the Forbidden City was closing early every day that week, so we had to delay our own visit from that afternoon to our final morning. No biggie.

Next, the Temple of Heaven: 2008 will be one of the biggest deals for modern China, that goes without saying. In preparation for the international focus and in effort to impress the world most eveything is being cleaned and renovated around BeiJing. I might have mentioned how during the summer, when I was visiting the week before the International olympics Committee, paddywagons cruised the streets of the capital rounding up beggars and undesirables, supposedly dumping them off a hundred miles outside the city walls. We weren't exiled, but we did find some of the places we visited would charge us admission then bar us from seeing the most interesting sections, as they were under repair. The Temple of Heaven stood as the best example of this inconvenience. Luckily its picture is all over BeiJing, so the loss was not too great.

Finally, the Pearl Market: I am not a shopper. My mother is. God bless her, she can sniff out a bargain from a strip mall's distance away. But this serves as one of those environment in life where two people will never comes to agreement. Across the Temple of Heaven you'll find a large emporium of crap, but the top floors have got heavily discounted pearls of all color and size. I knew we wouldn't escape a visit, but I hoped it'd be painless. In reality, our time there was not too bad, and certainly not the worst (that would be the Silk Market on of final day in BeiJing), but the combined strain of 1. shopping 2. translating between English and Chinese 3. translating between cultures 4. working out exchange rates and 5. being hungry truly tested everyone's patience. We'll leave it at that.

Whatever frustration reared during the shopping quickly dissipated that evening as we took in an acrobat show. I had been trying to get to one of these during each of the past two trips to BeiJing but kept striking out: first due to lack of cabs and traffic, then due to overzealous shopping (not on my behalf). But we took the necessary precautions and got front row seats to almost two hours worth of jaw dropping spectacle. It opened up with a man riding a unicycle on top of an umbrella being carried by another man on a unicycle and just got more insance from that. Sure, I was exhausted, but I couldn't stop smiling no matter how tired I was. If you, dear reader, ever get to BeiJing, see the acrobats. You'll be happy you did.

The next day was our Great Wall adventure. With the three of us traveling together, combined with my Chinese savvy, turned out to be only marginally more expensive to hire a minivan and driver for a personal ride out and back than taking public transport. Scrambling in for a 2.5 hour ride we headed to SiMaTai, an older section of the Wall that might be a bit more grueling of a trek than BaDaLing, but certainly less touristy and more authentic of an experience. My parents strove up as far as they could, but I bounded on to the highest reasonable point. The surrounded terrain was a combination of sharp brown mountain and flat plain. Having recently read "The Art of War," this sight gave better understanding to SunZi's knowledge; certainly much more than the endless plain of my Manchurian home. I also ran into some Georgetown MBA students I had met the day before at the Summer Palace. Turns out they paid more than twice what we paid for their minivan, and they had less people. And they are earning their MBAs. Ha. Business.

Our last day in BeiJing gave us the Forbidden City (lots of new exhibits have opened in side galleries since my prior visit a year before), carpet hunting (no luck) and a few hours in the Silk Market that will go unmentioned. That evening we climbed into VIP bunks on a sleeper train to HangZhou. My mother went from giddy to disgusted as she strolled from berth to bathroom, I just settled in and attempted to zone out as I prefer to do on trains.

BeiJing was behind us, we were carpetbagging.

The Bill will return in
Episode III: Die HangZhou Die (German for "The HangZhou, The")

Episode I: The Immigration Menace

2006-04-07T20:39:00.000-04:00

Let the ramble... begin.

February 26th brought the last day of teaching before heading out into the wild unknown of China. My classes were all fun yet solemn, but there is no story here. It goes without saying that the beloved throngs that are my students feared a life without Teacher Bill, but who wouldn't? Numbers cried, of all ages. Little Gary of GoGo fame (his picture has been posted in the past) kicked off Sunday morning by telling me in Chinese that he already missed me as he refused to relinquish my leg. David (11 years old) demanded every once of contact information; Paula, Angel, Popola, and the rest of the 1:30 crew showered me with gifts (dolphins included) while Clare gave me a 3 disc Mongolian dance set.

But class is class, and while rewarding, the story begins outside the workplace.

Monday, February 27th, marked the going-away party. We'd originally planned celebrations at a trumped up dumpling emporium (if you don't understand my dumpling fetish, you're new to this blog) but as the numbers swelled we relocated. Meeting first at our main branch we began the train over to the restaurant. Little Apple (branch manager) and I picked out a cornucopia of dishes, excluding the tired guobuorou and disanxian. I wore my tailored jacket. Toasts were made. Stories shared. Honor bestowed. All laughed. Many cried. Check out the pictures.

Turns out I Harbin reaps good friends, and The Bill sprouts more thana few good stories, and all together this means more than my share - no, wait, my exact share of toasts. Regardless, despite the high level of emotion and sentimentality of the evening I ended up quite drunk. And quite hungover on the soft seat train ride (5 hours) to ShenYang the next morning.

Ugh. Hungover train ride. Overcrowded train. Not fun.

Now you may ask why might our intrepid explorer be headed to ShenYang, capital city of LiaoNing province? To tour the original Emperor's Palace? It was closed when I got there. Take in the beautiful parks? They were mostly frozen over. Sample the delicate cuisine? It was the same as Harbin. No, I was there to provide moral support to a friend applying for her J-1 Au Pair visa. She had found a sweet deal in Monterey, CA and all that remained was the interview which had her scared shitless. Rightfully so.

Now, I worked in immigration in a past life, that life that existed sometime between college and China, and its all about the details. We showed up for the interview that frigid morning and the mob was large. But godbless the American Consulate or whoever forced order unto this maddening crowd, for it soon became quite orderly. However, order or no, the line was long and the weather cold, and my friend quickly uncomfortable. I kept warm by dancing around with my American passport held high singing a tune of "I don't need a visa, lalalalalala!"

America: Fuck Yeah.

Eventually she got in, had the interview, scored the visa, and we headed out to have some fun in ShenYang. Turns out there isnt much fun to be had in ShenYang, but we did take in a large park, a temple, and other random sites. Nothing of great note. Certainly the story of the day was the visa, seconded by my ability to follow the entire dialogue of "The Transporter 2" in Chinese (shut up, lets see you do it). I also scored a promotional item that would come to serve me well throughout the rest of my travel: a bag. Not like your mom, but a handy little side satchel bag that stowed my Lonley Planet quite conveniently.

The ShenYang adventure ended without hitch and I parted ways with my Harbin friend: she off to America and I off to BeiJing to reunite with the parental units. The first leg lay behind me without a hitch.

The Bill will return in:
Episode II: The Wrath of Mahm

The Long and Winding and Exhausting Road

2006-03-31T09:04:00.000-05:00

Sweet daddy Confucious, I am still tired.

My body is drained, in fact, even after sleeping over 15 hours the other day (unheeded by inebriation; just good, sober sleep) I'm tired. I haven't done anything especially physically exerting, but it goes without saying I fell way behind healthy levels as I banged around China on bus, train, plane, and hovercraft.

My mental self doesnt stand much better. After my parents took off I didn't speak English for over 2 weeks. Only Chinese. Enough to make my head hurt. The converstations varied, but each time we had to rehash the same bland facts: I'm American. Yes, I can speak Chinese. Yes, Chinese is a hard language. Yes, I must be a very diligent student. No, not all Americans have blue eyes. Chinese food is delicious. No, you can't compare China and the US like that. Sometimes I got some interesting curveballs ("You know Chinese make the best noodles, right? And did you know your President slaughters innocent children for fun?") and some ridiculous claims ("I don't see why you Westerners think the Cold War was so important. We all know that if war erupted both the USA and the USSR would have lost to China.") that forced me to play dumb in lieu of starting a true international inncident.

Goes to show you just how tired I am. A well-rested Bill would have flushed these conversations dry.

But now we're back to the weekend: crunch time. The last weekend of non-travel burned this over-the-top cuteness into my mind forever:

I don't think my body or mind could handle such a display this weekend. It might just be too much. An overload.

But, as always, I press on. We'll get to the nitty gritty of the adventure in a few more days time, but an overview is warranted.

The quest began on February 27 with a "Bon Voyage/Don't Get Yourself Killed" party in Harbin. Early the next morning with au-pair wannabe in tow, a train was taken only a few hours south to ShenYang and the American Consulate. Business complete (and friend successfully invited to the United States- congrats Cecilia), further south to BeiJing and a reunion with the parents. BeiJing to the 1997 trips' favorite locale of HangZhou, then a quick flight to HongKong. There was a day trip to Macao and some border problems that resulted in a short-term deportation, but eventually I got back into Red China and made my wway to GuangZhou, then GuiLin. GuiLin was boarding point for a river cruise to YangShuo, and after getting my fill of river life I moved onto weird GuiYang, where I only sacrificed a day before moving ontowards ChengDu in SiChuan. Spending time first in the city, I eventually struck out for the Tibetan border again, this time taking in some beautiful hiking at JiuZhaiGou. Time started getting tight at this point, so hurrying back to ChengDu I jumped a train to BeiJing where i was lucky enough to meet up with my old friend (and 1997 traveling companion) Samantha Shih, though only for the afternoon. Finally back to Harbin. Spent.

Words will come later. For now: a few pictures.

Hail the Conquering Hero

2006-03-26T05:29:00.000-05:00

Aaaaaaannnnnnnddddd... I'm spent.

Back in Harbin, having arrived this morning on a sleeper train from BeiJing. I still can't get over how much ground I covered, how many places I visited, how many wonders I experienced, or how many new animals I gave a knosh.

But now its all said and done. The Great Wander has ended. We've been on trains, planes, buses, tricycles, hovercrafts, lorchas, trams, subways, and rickshaws. Maybe even a piggyback. I ate horse. I ate shark. I ate more yak. Yak, believe it or not, is delicious.

But right now the head is little more than a blur. I havent slept on a proper bed in more than a few nights; instead finding rest on trains and in buses (side note: Chinese sleeper buses are not designed to accomodate 5'10, broad shouldered honkies) so I'm going to rest up for a day or two before the chronicling begins. Then let the ramblin' begin.

A Rambler's Gotta Ramble OR In Memoriam of Two Stinky Shoes

2006-03-18T03:56:00.001-05:00

Today, the day after an unobserved St Patrick's Day, I return for a post to El Bloggomondo. I blog because a pair of dear friends are being put to rest and because I have nothing better to do for the afternoon.
Since leaving Harbin and beginning the wander, I've been to ShenYang (nothing great of interest), BeiJing (Parental reunion! Yes! Return of filial freeloading! More yes!), HangZhou (big change since '97, but still cool), Hong Kong (I'm speechless... for now), GuangZhou (worst banking experience ever), and now GuiLin (some of China's natural beauty at its best).
Its been a long trip, and its not over, but we're not without our casualties. Tonight I'll be saying goodbye to a pair of sneakers that have traveled with me all over China, around Ireland, from DC to Boston and even out to San Francisco. I always look at my shoes as carrying the history of my travels with them, and this pair went further than most. But they've split in several places and worn through the bottom and simply no longer comfortable.
Plus a certain Scott had the same pair so really these were doomed from the get go, which was about 3 years ago. I hang onto my shoes for a long time.
The replacements are already on my feet: a sturdy pair of Timberland hiking boots. My ankles are already saying "thank you" for the added support and my soles are in bliss.
Being in China, the new shoes came cheap, but being in China and having large feet (11.5EEE) they did not come easy. After being laughed out of a dozen stores I finally found this pair that met my standards.
Tomorrow the adventure continues on to GuiYang and hopefully immediately on to ChengDu. My Mecca, set long before I left Harbin, stands a 12 hour bus ride north of ChengDu and I fear I must make a sprint to get there before time runs out. But for now I really need rest, 19 days on the road takes more out of a person than I thought, and I've been moving non-stop. Not that I'm complaining, this trip has certainly been a great experience so far and not one I'd ever give up, but I could do for a few days of stagnation and relaxation.
But so much to do and so little time!
And so, to close, a reading from the Book of Seger:

Now, I'm out of money, 'cause you know I need some
Ain't gonna run on lovin', and I must run
Got to keep movin', never gonna slow down
You can have your funky world, see you 'round
Cause I got to ramble (Ramblin' man)
I got to gamble (gamblin' man)
I got to ramble (ramblin' man)
Lord I'm a ramblin', gamblin' man

The Bill... Finds A Way

2006-03-02T08:49:00.000-05:00

Hi-dilly ho avid readers,
It begins again, in a scope and scale never seen before. Having already begun, I'll be using the next month to wander aimlessly around China. The plan is simple: go wherever I feel like going on any given day. Want to go south? Then go south, boy! Climb a mountain? Where's the closest? Drift down the Yangtze? Someone get me a raft!
There is a lot in China that I just can't get to with my limited vacation time. So, now that I'm in between contracts, I've alloting myself this month to hit up all the sights I don't want to miss. The forecase calls for adventures. McGonigle flavor.
So far we've had nothing but good news. Yesterday I helped my Chinese friend score a J-1 visa, meaning she'll soon be residing in Moneterey, CA as an au pair. Not the baby-shaking variety, mind you. I'm happy for her, and she's exstatic.
Tomorrow the good news continues as the parental units are arriving in Beijing (where I am at this moment). I'll be leading them down along the east coast of China, from Beijing to HangZhou to Hong Kong. They'll leave on the 13th, then I'm on my own.
Now, I do have an idea of where I'll be headed, but nothing too concrete. Thats just not the way we do things here in China. Planning? Foresight? Screw it. Gimme some fried dumplings and quiet you.
In the meantime, we'll be placing this blog on a short hiatus. I might be able to chime in now and then for a quick anecdote, but I won't promise anything.
So, without further ado:
Let "The Great Wander,"* BEGIN!

*Yes. I'm titling this adventure "The Great Wander." You might know my Chinese name roughly translates into "The Great [CENSORED]." I'm also a pretty great guy. And when this is all over and done, you can expect one great ramble.

Juiced

2006-02-25T18:36:00.000-05:00

If life in exile means the return of the Georgetown Dynasty, it's a good thing I like dumplings.

Syracuse: 53
Georgetown: 68

Move Aside, Walter Mitty

2006-02-24T08:59:00.000-05:00

I got another suit made this week, and at the same time a traditional Chinese silk coat; they kind with the big sleeves and knotted buttons. Its black with with cuffs, no frilly designs. It looks badass.

And yes I'm wearing it now.

And yes, I've been mimicking a plethora of chopsocky moves around my apartment while testing out my new threads.

Wednesday night of this week a group of teachers went out bar hopping. Despite the Harbin cold, I wore a toga (others did too, it wasn't a solo thing).

Fear not, friends from long ago, I havent changed too much during this past year. We still be Billin'.

Spring Is In The Air. And On My Shoes. And Across My Floor...

2006-02-21T10:55:00.000-05:00

The past two or three days have been exceptionally warm, but yet we've also had snow. It's quite odd. But at the same time, obvious that the groundhog (do they have groundhogs in China? I dunno.) didn't see his shadow.

So it's an early spring in Harbin. What does that mean? Well, we've got an exceptional amount of sludge everywhere. Please remember that it's usually very cold here, and everything freezes. The roads and sidewalks have all had about 1/2 inch of ice overing them since early December. A lot of this frozen fun contains settled coal dust from the power plants that heat all the apartment blocks across the city. Then, according to my Canuck co-worker Craig, there's an extra inch of ice solely derived from people's spittle.

It's cold in Harbin. And dirty. Together, well, causes one to hock-and-load on frequent occasion. I've been practising. Thanks to an average of 4-6 hocks between the 2.5 blocks from home to school, I'll get in half a dozen shots. My accuracy is impressive, and my range is now great. All in all, its disgusting.

Have we mentioned the lugies in the restaurants? Oh, thats a fun time.

I digress. The frozen fun is melting. That means spring. How else do I know?
1. The BBQers are out in full force. Anyone who can is setting up a steel drum outside their establishment to roast up some meat-on-a-stick. Good for me. It's delicious. The lice love it.

2. The streets are nothing but black slick. This is not a good thing, only a ominous fore-runner of better things to come.

3. Some Chinese are not wearing long underwear. But many still are. Many consider it crazy to take off their long underwear anytime before April. Which, in itself, is crazy if you ask me.

OK, This Might Be Funny

2006-02-21T10:42:00.000-05:00

The last entry on this, the blog of blogs, commented on the lack of good humor in the Chinese language.

Today I was given a light at the end of the tunnel. That sounds rather morbid. I was given a light. We'll leave it at that. Especially since it's appropos for this discussion.

Taking a bus home from my tailor's (I got a tailor!) this afternoon, I was reading China's version of the New Yorker: Public Bus Edition. As I didn't care to waste my time on the bourgeois advertising sections, I skipped straight to the humor page. The following, for better or for worse, is what I found.

TITLE: Black Things
JOKE: A white person was in a black person place. The white person felt nervous. When talking to some black people, the white person said something stupid that simultaneously pointed out how white people and black people are different but in another way the same. Hahahahaha!

There is no plagarism in China, well, not like back in the States where I was signing "Honor Codes" every month. So this joke is likely plagiarized off Dave Chappelle. Who plagiarized off Chris Rock. Who plagiarized off Eddie Murphy. Who plagiarized off Richard Pryor. Who plagiarized off Red Foxx. You get my point.

White People and Black People and People Who Speak Asian are different. But we're all also the same. In that we steal someone else's ideas for our onw profit, that is.

Its Just Not Funny

2006-02-20T22:53:00.000-05:00

We need to recognize that we live in a world of many cultures and many languages, and certain aspects will never translate well from one to the next. Fine. This might manifest itself most commonly within humor. Now, I'm at the point now where I can watch a movie in Chinese and understand most of it, and if its got comedy then I can usually swing with it. This isn't much of a feat, as most Chinese comedies seem to ceiling at slapstick.

Last night I was watching "GoldenEye" as I make my way through the Bond collection I picked up a few months back. I couldn't get the subtitles off, so they kept distracting me throughout the film. Not too annoying, really. But what struck me was how lame the translation was. More than anything else, the sexual inuendos made little sense in Chinese, and often seemed to be, well, not so much innuendo as direct statements. Which basically boils down half of the dialogue in a Bond film to something like:
Any woman: "What are you doing?"
Bond: "I want to put my penis inside your vagina."

Chinese, I've said before, is an incredibly rigid language. This past weekend a father of a student taught me an expression that would directly translate as "The brain becoming rusty is not a good thing." He can't speak English, and I didn't know the word for 'rust,' but I understood when he said it was a red powder on metal that occurs after oxidation (yes, I know 'oxidize' in Chinese). Upon enlightenment, I jumped up confirmed that I understood his expression and immediately asked him if I could use the similar patter in other ways.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if I don't use my Chinese ability, and it gets bad, can I say it gets 'rusty?'"
"No! Of course not! That makes no sense!"
"Well, what about other things?"
"I don't understand what you're trying to do, Bill. You can only say metal objects and brains are 'rusty.' Thats it."

Frustrating for an English speaker.

I'd like to end this post with a quick note on "GoldenEye." First, its a pretty good Bond movie, certainly better than some of the other atrocious Brosnan outings, and way better than one or two Moores. Not only that, but having not seen this film since the mid-nineties, I've probably got more memories about the N64 game than the flick. But watching the opening, I was shocked to see how well the game recreated the movie! The "facility" level, the first, is almost a direct re-creation of Bond's raid on the base. Some of the other sets were also well done by the game, but that facility really blew me away. Many of you know I played that game so much in high-school it got to the point that I was afraid of turning a corner in fear of a certain Soto waiting there for a shot to my head. Man, I loved that game. I'm on the verge of going to the video-game market here in Harbin and finding an N64 and a copy of "GoldenEye" just so I can re-live all those hours wasted in high school.

No using Odd-Job. Or that short Moonraker Guard. Thats just not fair.

Withdrawal

2006-02-18T08:01:00.000-05:00

Whoa. That sucked. My internet's been shut off for maybe 3+ days now and I've been driven to the brink of insanity. Happy to see that in that time we here at Immigrant Songs have garnished a bit of respect. One compatriot (the AeroPerro) gave a nod on his own blog (http://dog.aereoperro.com/), which is pretty much the only blog I can read from China.

My favorite ego-stroke might have come from another long-time friend who said that since he doesn't see me, can only read my blog, he "thinks [he] ponders [me] now more as a celebrity." Celebrity is cool. Where are the chicks? Where's DaveTV?

Throughout the travelogue regarding Spring Festival Vacation I made mention of many "Indiana Jones" moments. I'd like to quickly relate one more.

That first full day in Xi'An we ended our afternoon by walking through the Shaanxi History Museum. Dark (it was a museum) and dusty (we WERE in China) and dripping with history, guess what flashed immediaely through my mind after finding this exhibit (Warning: Blurry):

"They're digging in the wrong place!"

Moving on, I'd like to relate the anger I've experienced due to my internet blackout. It peaked this afternoon as the following came to light: my internet was shut off because I had only paid for 4 months (beginning in September) and actually owed a furth 200 RMB. Now, here's what the deal with my internet is: I signed up in March of 2005, paid 100 RMB deposit and then a further 600 RMB for 6 months of service. In September, before my subscription ran out, I paid a further 600 RMB for a further 6 months. Each time I was forced to pay in cash, each time to some guy who just showed up, each time the guy failing to be able to give me a receipt, cuz they just dont always seem do to receipts here. When we called to ask today why my internet was shut off, the company stated I had only paid 402 RMB in September. People who know me would see this as uncharacterisitic, as I usually pay for things in the easiest managed blocks, and as 6 months was the longest time period to purchase (and thereby cheapest per unit); and why would I go through the extra effort of paying 400 AND TWO??? They didn't even ask to see a receipt, they knew I wouldn't have one. I wasn't going to pay any more money to this company that they didn't deserve, and clearly told my boss and one TA to NOT pay anything without first consulting me. Obviously now I'm on the internet again, so what happened? Last I heard, we sent a man down to the internet company's office to take care of the matter. That sounds more dramatic than it probably was, but regardless, it worked.

Hooray for the internet!

A Year's Worth of Adventures

2006-02-14T05:22:00.000-05:00

Today's the day: one year since I set foot back in China. February 14 will from this point forward will mark the completion of my first complete year abroad, my first year truly staking it out on my own, my first big test in a long time. Guaranteed not to be my last.

In the philosophy of Billism, February 14 will likely take rank amongst the high holidays: December 18, birth of the patriarch; April 10, the passing of the proficiency exam; Halloween. There are other important festivals as well, such as the gluttonous Lunchbox Fest, but that falls whim to the Weiss-M calendar, less predictable than the Chinese Lunar Calendar.

So looking back on this first year, what must we remember and pay respect to?

First, those left behind. Family first: the core of padre, madre, dos bros and un petit sis. They've been busy without me, their own travels taking them as far as Prague. I guess they felt safe doing this with me in China, as the last time I got ditched by the 5 of them I threw one hell of a houseparty.

Outside Byfield we've got a few more [CENSORED], notably my aunt in Pittsburgh who has graced my time in China with welcomed packages of Hershey chocolates. The O'Neils need respresenation, if solely for their sheer number, but I know they are out there somewhere and hopefully avidly reading this blog.

Then there are the friends. I've been able to keep up with many through email, IM, blogs (prior to the PRC crackdown), and the occasional poorly-timed phone call. (Seems like if they aren't asleep when I give ring they've been rushed to the hospital.) Special recognition needs to go to those four who visited my lonely self in Boston immediately prior to last year's departure. Thanks guys, you're missed.

But enough about other people, lets talk about me! I've done a lot the past year, lets gloat:

1. I'm a successful teacher! This might not surprise any of our readers, but I got a knack for finding others' faults and correcting them. Not only have I consistently received the highest student ratings of all the teachers in my school for all levels of class, but I got a waitlist of students waiting to join my classes. And the kicker: the company I tutor once a week wants to pay for me to be flown around China to their other offices to train their other English teachers in the "Bill Method."
My students also learn a lot.

2. I'm a successful comprador! Not only being a teacher, I'm the number one daily go-between for foreign/Chinese affairs! I've defended my school as often as I've championed for the downtrodden foreign teachers and helped to create a number of new, documented policies that have boosted morale and efficiency around the office!

3. I'm a successful traveler! I've taken trips to the four corners of China, braved jungle, desert, tundra and concrete to bring you stories from all over the Middle Kingdom. Also a gift here and there for the lucky ones back home. I've ambled on my own ability as well as relaxed in the comfort of a friendly tour group. Two mountains have been tackled (plus a yak-tastic plateau), at least half a dozen cities beat, countless buses and trains ridden (but only one yak), delicacies downed, friends found, and shoes worn thin.

4. I'm a successful student of the Chinese language! My primary reason for coming to Harbin in the first place, my 'putonghua' is nigh on good. I won't brag too much about this, as there is still so much left to learn, and my pronounciation isn't quite perfect enough for the high-falootin' snobs of the Manchurian Plain, but I get repeated compliments every else in China not just that I know Chinese but that my Chinese is exceptionally clear. Also grammatically correct. Yup, I speak like a textbook, but what can you expect? And is that a bad thing?

5. I'm a successful dieter! Not so much a dieter, perhaps, as I still don't watch what I eat, but I've lost over 30 pounds in the last year. For those keeping track:
165 - Freshmen Year of High School (I wrestled 168)
175 - Junior Year of High School (I wrestled 189)
200 - Sometime between quitting wrestling and the end of Freshmen Year at University (mostly healthy growth)
238 - Weight at graduation from University (mostly beer and Tombs/New South food - NOT HEALTHY)
225 - Weight upon leaving for China in February 2005
190 - Weight as of yesterday
None of my clothes that I left home with really fit properly anymore. All that really do fit properly are those tailored suits I've been getting made. I'm not complaining, not in the least! And now there is no argument: I've got a cute butt.

What's next? Who knows. Thats the great thing. So keep your eyes on the blog and stay tuned for the next round of adventures in your favorite serial and mine.

Profundity!

2006-02-13T05:19:00.000-05:00

Cue the "Benny Hill" music, its time for Silly Engrish Signs! (Some better than others.)

Glory Glory Hallelujah

2006-02-12T09:17:00.000-05:00

Tonight, February 12, brings the Lantern Festival and with that the end of Spring Festival. Beginning tomorrow morning firecrackers and fireworks will once again be illegal until next year.

It would be cliche' to identify the constant fire outside my window, which while for the last two weeks has been constantly abuzz now reaches critical mass, to anything reminiscent of the so-called 'shit,' but damn if ain't shitty. I'm looking forward to the return of peace and quiet. Return? What?

For the time being I'm finding it hard to concentrate on cranking out a log concerning the last day of the travel as I'm simultaneously listening to the "Battle Hymn of the Republic," or the "Glory, glory, hallelujah!"' song if you will. Wednesday will be the one-year anniversary since I arrived in China and all I can say is "America. Fuck yeah."

But we're gonna do it.

Waking up for the final day of walking around I was determined to tire myself out as much as possible for the upcoming 45 hour train ride, and thus opted to carry my pack all day. Grabbing a quick breakfast of oh-so-good dumplings, fried egg, and pumpkin/rice soup (not bad) we planned out the route: first to the Temple of the Eight Immortals, followed by the Big Goose Pagoda, then the Little Goose Pagoda, then shopping in the Muslim Quarter for trinkets before heading to the train station.

It took a bit of wandering but we eventually got to the Temple. I was happy to find my temple-philia had returned and enjoyed myself thoroughly wandering this this Daoist shrine. The stone was all a very darky carved bit of rock, well warn in parts by those hoping for good luck. Each of the individual rooms held different altars, which you aren't allowed to photograph, but each depicting a seperate Daoist deity. My favorite held the founding god flanked by the eight immortals, four on each side. But in front of the founding god stood two cylindrical cones of light. Pretty, shiny things mesmerize me, and thus sat and stared for a while.

I nailed that little bell in the middle of the coin with my first and only available attempt as I had but one .5RMB coin in my pocket. I've received eternal peace. These are the colors of a varsity athlete.

Such pinache'! A witty perspective shot! Will this blog ever stoop lower and lower?!

His truth is marching on!

Xuan Zang, the monk-hero of "Journey to the West" and the man responsible for bringing a cavalcade of Buddhist scriptures from India back to China, only then to spend years upon years translating them. His journey began in Xi'An, and ended back here in Xi'An, right here at the Big Goose Pagoda. This is where XuanZang sequestered himself till his death, working all the while at his books.

A monk gave me a cherry tomato. Cherry tomatoes are much tastier than Communion bread.

We climbed the pagoda, seven stories up and nothing after Hua Shan hike. At the top we got a real beautiful outlook on the fog. Wow. Not sure if winter is always like that there, but wow. That was a lot of fog we saw. Plans for coffee were made as we headed back out and through this Tiananmen-sized shopping ring: huge multi-storied visitor centers and KFCs, that sort of thing. But first the Little Goose Pagoda.

The Little Goose is under renovation, and the gardens are kinda dismantled for winter, so this somehow gave the place a spooky feeling at time. Especially with the fog. A few funny signs, though, which I'll post up later.

In the Muslim Quarter I packed up for the train ride: apples, dried kiwis, some cakes. A few trinkets as well, gifts for myself and others. But before I talk any more about shopping I need to show off the greatest find of the whole trip:

I found it outside the Temple of the Eight Immortals that morning. Bargaining was intense, and I knocked the price down pretty far, but if it ain't annoying knowing that you can't walk away from any purchase 100% sure you didn't just get taken. Regardless, I wasn't NOT going to buy this thing, that I had already decided.

It's a spring loaded dart gun, I believe the woman called it a "ShouPao" or "hand-canon." Crafted from copper its got heft, and the spring is rather strong so the bolt gets some good force behind it. Certainly not an in strument to be reckoned with. Many of my students have labeled it an "AnQi" or "secret weapon," the kinda thing an old kungfu master might hide up his sleeve for an unexpected attack. Coooool. I've used it as a teaching tool this week, doing a fun "stick your hand in the bag and describe what you feel" activity.

Commerce complete, time had come to depart from our Silk Road terminus of Xi'An and board a train back home; first cutting east into ShanDong then turning sharply north all the way back to Qiqiha'r, northewest from Harbin. I read Clavell's "Gai-Jin," which follows "Tai-Pan" in the Asian Saga. I read "Tai-Pan" when I traveled back from Beijing after meeting up with Jay in July so it was fun dipping back into that story. I like the idea of the "Tai-Pan" and have been known to identify with it at times. Jokingly of course. Yes... jokingly...

Thus concludes our coverage of your Man in Asia's Spring Festival travel adventures. Future anecdotes might one be day regurgitated, but we have a lot of news to catch up on. But next: Silly Engrish Signs!"

Thats A Big Twinkie

2006-02-10T07:41:00.000-05:00

After hiking up and (most of the way) down Hua Shan, the leggies cried out for a day of rest. Not that that was going to happen! While we might have covered the most distance on this, our final full day in ShanXi Province, we didn't do too much walking.

The plan was to head out to the border of GanSu, the province that opens up the wild west of China. I mentioned before that Xi'An is China's westernmost 'civilized' city, well, I say that because Chinese people themselves don't understand why anyone would anyone would want to go any further west from there. "Its too poor!" "The people are too stupid!" "There is China west of Xi'An?" I guess we could associate Xi'An to China the way we associate East St. Louis to the United States of America.

But being a Buddha-holic, a strong calling attracted me to a 3-hour bus ride out into this wide-open wilderness. We spent the morning driving across flat, low-growth orchards of some sort of barby fruit tree (never got a good guess as to what it was) eventually to snake up and through mountains. These werent as epic as Hua Shan, but seemed more like mud pies left behind by a world-shaping toddler. In fact, I wouldn't give much emphasis to the views of the rising mountains so much as the incredible gorges that sheared through them. These drops would open up out of no where and amaze the crap out of me. I'm no geologist, but after seeing an uncountable number of small caves dug into these mountainsides (for storage, religious meditation, and habitation) it was easy to conclude that the rock was not a hardy one and prone to such manipulation.

Eventually we did make it out to a post town of sorts: not so much a real town as just the central point for the entire county to come for market, bus pickup, and postal services. Jumped a motor-trike and headed to "DaFoSi," or "Big buddha Temple."

As we keep bringing up Indian Jones towards this vacation, I'll do it again: this temple, carved into the side of a mountain, was reminiscent of the Grail Temple in "Last Crusade," but of course Asianed-out Surrounding it was a small village and more small caves. The temple itself was rather straight forward, or so it seemed, but as we explored we found many grottoes that required one to climb up via rusty chain or sneak behind altars. Some of the more interesting bits were locked off; namely a grotto containing hundreds of "arhats," which might be like apostles of the Buddha (NOT boddhivastras/boddhisatvas [SP?]). Fun to clamor about and poke around, especially since once again we were the only ones there.

The big draw, and I do mean big, awaited within the center chamber of the temple. Standing 30 meters tall (approx 100 feet) and sitting in the center of the room facing out away from the mountain: one big Buddha. Big. I've never seen one so big. Obviously touched up to maintain its appearance over the years, the skin sparkeled gold, the hair blue, big-ol'-kissable-Buddha-lips red. To the sides: an 18 meter statue of GuanYin (China's favorite Buddha) and some other Buddha. Seeing the two flanking statues leaning in towards the center of the chamber sent an immediate desire to jump upon one of their heads only to push it over, crashing through the wall, thus bringing myself and Marion to safety.

I've got a real Indiana Jones problem. I admit it. But damned if I'm ashamed of it.

We took in the temple for about an hour, then headed back to the bus stop for the 3 hour ride back to Xi'An. An easy day, finished with a delectable multi-course meal at a moderately fancy restaurant. One dish, some sort of stringy bread dealie-do, tasted so good I shivered. Lots of cashews too, and thats never a bad thing. I think we could all benefit from using cashews more often in our cooking. But I've always know this, ever since I was young and my father would scold any young Bill caught simply picking out the cashews alone from his tins of mixed nuts.

One more day left in Xi'An, then a 45 hour train ride. Thankee the Lord for iPods and books.

They Go Up

2006-02-07T03:23:00.000-05:00

Ah, the new year. At least the new Chinese year. Fresh in the heat of the dog, the time had come to leave the comforts of Xi'An and undertake the most physically rigorous leg of the vacation: scaling Hua Shan.

I believe I shared the story of Pan Gu and the 5 holy Daoist mountains of China back in May when i climbed Tai Shan. Take a look, if not, I'll have to post it here soon. But of the 5, Hua Shan might be known as the most rigorous climb, but as I've been working quite a bit lately (191 pounds! 191 pounds! Thats approx 30 lost since coming to China!) I was personally ready.

Hey, who's that handsome devil? That brave climber from abroad ready to tackle Hua Shan?

After being stared at during a bus ride and through a smal village, we entered the Jade Fountain Temple, open to the public for free for the holiday. This place, a rather run of the mill Daoist temple, simply swarmed with those taking advantage of the free entrance fee. Once we moved beyond it, and the ticket price jumped to 50 RMB, well, we were pretty much alone.

The climb started easy enough: as with all other Chinese mountains, they've prepped to accomodate a ridiculous mass of people at any one time and thus have lain a walkway/stairway to handle all the traffic. On this particular day, traffic topped around 7, which we'll get to later. But the mountain itself, right from the beginning, offered majestic and drastic cuts of rock face on all sides. Still hovering around freezing, many small waterfalls had become tumbling ice flows. The fog was still in full force, however, so we were unfortunately robbed of certain vistas. All the pity, but what are you gonna do? In fact, I actually kinda liked the fogged out heights, as it left what lay beyond to my imagination. As Hua Shan is not the holiest mountain of China, its often considered "the first," probably as it lies well within the cradle of the nation. Artists have painted an infinite number of pictures of Hua Shan with monks sitting in contemplation upon the peaks as dragons danced in the void beyond; its easy to see why that might be the case when you can't even see whats in that void beyond.

Hey, who's that handsome devil perched in front of that ice flow?

Now, as mentioned, the mountain was pretty empty as most Chinese were home gorging on dumplings and scaring away the evil monster Nian through red banners and fireworks, but we did meet a few fellow travelers on our climb up. 4 were from GuangDong, in the south of China: 2 young women and their boyfriends. The girls were English teachers, one for tykes and one in a university, which was great as we taught each other back and forth as we climb. One of the guys was a professional photographer and a weathered mountain hiker, the other shared the same name with a hero from "Romance of the Three Kingdoms," another Chinese classic. I actually mentioned this as he introduced himself and it blew all the Chinese away. For some reason Chinese can't fathom why any foreigner would ever have any interest in their culture/history. (While I am working my way through that book, I didn't tell them I was first introduced to the story thanks to a fantastic old-school 8-bit Nintendo game.) The last traveler was a middle aged man who also has climbed many a Chinese mountain. He spoke no English, and we would become roommates later in the evening, but he gave me a lot of advice towards visiting China's most scenic natural wonders. All together, foreigner blokes included, we number seven, and agreed to stick together to negotiate the cheapest possible hotel rate once we reached the summit. It was a fellowship. This correllation ws beaten to death by the time we eventually headed back to Xi'An.

Now the climb itself was a bit harrowing at times. As mentioned, Hua Shan is steep, and at a few instances we were pulling ourselves up by chains or risking plummets that most certainly would end in nothing but death. From the base we kept hiking up and up, only taking a considerable rest to warm up with some "douzhou" or bean drink of some sort which is a bit like milk but not. A few stretches were incredibly narrow, forcing me to guffaw in disbelief that anyone would get anywhere on this mountain during peak travel times. But through cave and cliff, the North Peak was eventually reached. From there it was the East Peak and a night's rest.

Hey, who's that handsome devil hawking the merits of good, warm "douzhou?"

Waking up the next morning the fog decided that no sunrise would be seen, but by 8 AM one could see far enough to take in the surrounding peaks and mountains. Quite majestic, as the fog and cloud still drifted in and out of the ravines; and, even more so, it had snowed during the night and so everything was a pristine and delicate white. I might go so far as to say I've never seen anything so gorgeous.

Once we set out we hiked around to the other peaks, foregoing only the West Peak, only accessible by a 500 foot walkway barely wide enough for two people, frozen over, and lacking a protectionary chain on one side. Heading back down I got stopped by many more Chinese than we had seen the previous day, all asking the same questions: "Do you speak Chinese?' "Is it safe to continue?" Due to the snowfall most of the steps had a dangerous layer of black ice acorss their tops (hence chickening out of the Western Peak) so their questions were certianly validated. My companion had had enough of the climb by this point though, so we cheated and took a gondola down and made our way back through the village to a bus and back to Xi'An. Another day done, and another unforgettable China experience.

Who IS that handsome devil? Really now?

Qin & The Family Stone

2006-02-06T09:53:00.000-05:00

Saturday, the equivalent of New Year's Eve, we jumped on a bus and headed out to tour the sites east of Xi'An. Joining us was a pair of Spaniards, father and son, and some Chinese. The bus had two guides, one who spoke English just for us, but I spent as much time as I could practicing my Chinese with him.

Anywho, first stop was the museum that purchased the first terra-cotta warriors. The story goes that in 1974, while digging a well, four farmers struck clay gold and pulled up four life-sized figures. Not knowing what the statues were, the farmers dragged them down the road to a local museum that purchased all four warriors for 28RMB (about $4). From there, its recent history.

More interesting than the warriors, at least at this museum, was a display holding the crystalized remains of the Buddha which were housed in a smal silver coffin itself housed in a slightly large gold coffin. I couldn't get a picture as it was behind two layers of glass, but it was the sort of artifact that Indiana Jones movies are made about.

Next up was a small mountain, notable for two military coups:
1. Long long ago China was reigned by a dynasty named the Zhou. The Zhou, who ruled from Xi'An, used this mountain to light beacon fires when help was needed in defending the nation from foreign hordes. Well, apparently one empress was a prudish little sourpuss and refused to smile. So stoic was she, that even upon receiving some of the most illustrious of visitors and their wonderful gifts she wouldn't eek a smirk. The guests were furious and the next time the beacon fire was lit, they stayed at home in spite and the Zhou dynasty fell, or better said, was forced to relocate. Thus divides the Western and Eastern Zhou Dynasties.
2. Not so long ago China was divided between the Nationalists and the Communists. Meanwhile, Japan was busy invading China. All Chinese knew they needed to unite to defeat the Japanese, but neither side would capitulate to the other and spent more time fighting each other instead of against the true, Japanese enemy. Well, long story short, the Communists eventually got the Nationalists and their leader Chiang KaiShek (a brutal Romanization of his name, Jiang JieShi) on the run and ol' KaiShek took to hiding in this here mountain. The Commies eventually found him though and forced him to unite his army with theirs. I big monument to the Party stands now at the foot of Chiang's craggy hiding spot, where one may ascend to take a picture or spit.

We kept stepping back into history and soon found ourselves in a recreation of QinShiHuang's (that first emperor guy) underground mausoleum. Now, the actual mausoleum has yet to be excavated and may never be, as the Chinese would never want to destroy the treasure within nor might they want to know the truth. Qin ShiHuang is a bit like the Holy Grail for the Chinese, their Jesus, and we're not gonna besmirch his legacy any time soon. But the recreation itself is awe-inspiring. A huge model of the original gounds is set out to view, giving you an idea of just how magnificent this guy's funeral must have been. His grave alone would be about half the size of the Forbidden City: an epic burial mound in the center surrounded by palaces and underground armies. Alas, all but the tomb suffered destruction under the hands of angry peasants thousands of years ago, but this tourist trap is still cool. One of my favorite facts; the coffin of QinShiHuang is laid out over a recreation of the world, or at least as he knew it at the time, and the detail is immense. But the really interesting part is that all the water was represented by flowing mercury. So much mercury, in fact, the ground is still contaminated to this very day. Imperial eco-terrorism. One way to leave your mark, eh?

After the reconstruction, we visited the actual tomb. As mentioned, its nothing more than a big hill now, but we did get to take in a ceremonial offering to the big guy, including a dance of the 12 animals of the Chinese Zodiac. (Go monkey!)

With the pre-game over, time came for the big show: the terra-cotta warriors. Again, this was China's New Year's Eve, Christmas Eve, Easter, and Arbor Day all rolled into one, meaning that the Terra-Cotta Warriors Museum was as busy as metal-pole licking stand in coldest January. It was awesome. No lines, not hordes, no noise, it was as if I wasn't in China for the day. Even most of the crap-hawkers had taken off for the holiday, though the onese left behind were still wuite persistant and annoying.

Before actually taking in the digs we were treated to a movie: "The Eighth Wonder of the World." Obviously dated, the film gave the viewer a brief history of QinShiHuang, the construction of the warriors and mausoleum, and their subsequent destruction. While at first description you're probably thinking of scratchy '70s educational films ("Hi, I'm Troy McLure!), and you should, there is one last detail: THE FILM WAS DISPLAYED IN 360 DEGREES! I've never seena gimmick like this before, but it was one hell of a gimmick, even if it did leave me dizzy as I kept spinning in circles trying to take it all in.

Then came the pits. Wow. I can't describe just how huge these things are. As it stands, there are only 3 digs open and many more untouched. Pit 1 is the largest, and its one of the largest single rooms I've ever been in. The ranks of soldiers go on and on and on, and the vast majority is still under the earth! The first pit, the largest again, holds mostly common rank and file soldiers, foot soldiers, maybe a few chariots. Pit 2 gives us more leadership, generals and such, distinguished by their taller stature. Pit 3 has even more chariots and a good amount of archers.

Now apparently these warriors all had been painted, and when first unearthed still retained thier color for about three days before detriorating. Also, not a single warrior has been unearthed complete, and the archaeologists have not always been spot-on in rebuilding them. If you pay attention, you'll find warriors with two left hands, mismatched limbs, and chariot drivers sitting in the back seat of their chariots. All the more reason why the Chinese are holding off on any future excavation until technology develops.

After all the touring and history, the day came to an end and we bused back to the city for a quick rest. Being Spring Festival, we wanted to feast on the traditional Spring Festival dish of dumplings, and pounded the streets looking for an otherwise omnipresent Chinese delight. However, even as early as 6 PM, even in a city of 7 million, not a single Chinese restaurant was open. Forced upon us, as the only option: Pizza Hut. I felt quite embarrassed, even a little gross (I don't like Pizza Hut anywhere, anytime). This was like eating, well, Pork Lo Mein on Thanksgiving. Luckily the staff (visibly unhappy to be working) just passed us off as silly foreigners.

Which we were.

Hey, who's that handsome devil leading an uncountable army of clay warriors?

West Side!

2006-02-06T05:39:00.000-05:00

We left Thursday morning, fleeing the ice and cold of Harbin in high hopes of 40-degree temperatures. At that point in time, breaking above freezing seemed like nothing more than a forgotten dream in our minds.

For the first time, I wasn't traveling alone. One of my co-workers, a fellow Americano, tagged along. Before signing on it had been made clear this was my trip, and conceeded by the compradre that they weren't going to be able to travel anywhere without any help regardless, so full reign rested in my responsible hands.

Hahaha.

In all seriousness, I'm a weathered China-traveler and there was nothing to fear. After two flights and a long lay-over we hit ground in Xi'An, China's western-most "civilized" city and ancient capital. Immediately leaving the terminal we understood that we were no longer in Harbin, not only because the temperature was noticably warmer, but because the fog was so thick we couldn't see much more than 10 feet in front of us. Made for an exciting bus ride into town.

After getting a hotel room and a good night's rest, priority one was finding a way home. Chinese Spring Festival brings the largest movement of population in the world every year, and as most Chinese won't afford a plane ticket, trains are packed and at times hard to come by. We had to fight our way onto one to get back to Harbin a week later (you can't buy train tickets any more than 7 days in advance nor canyou buy them anywhere but in the city of departure), but thanks to my handy-dandy proficiency this proved little annoyance.

Free to begin exploring the city, we began to explore the city. First off came the Muslim Quarter. As a terminus of the Silk Road, Xi'An supports a healthy Hui (Chinese Muslim) population. The streets surrounding the Great Mosque offered an endless supply of market goods, both quality and crap. But despite the abundance of potential commerce, the streets lay bare. Most people were already home, preparing for the coming celebration. Luckily there was no problem in snagging a wonderful bowl of lamb/noodle/bread soup. We also checked out a newly opened place of interest, the ancestral home of a child prodigy. This 13 year old kid, some 1000+ years ago, scored #2 on the national examination and since became the idol of Chinese students the world over. Prior to being open to prying foreigners the structure stood only for the refuge of traditional artists. As we wandered in, the entire place was void of anyone, so we got to do a lot of poking around.

Hidden within a warren of alleys we found the Great Mosque. Having visited countless Buddhist and Daoist temples, I couldn't find much special about this site. Maybe it was the weather, maybe it was the lack of anything seperating the Mosque from other temples, maybe it was because we were barred from the prayer room; I dunno.

Leaving the Muslim Quarter behind, and acknowledging that the omnipresent fog really killed outdoor experiences for the day, the next goal became the ShanXi History Museum. I love museums, used to lose myself in the Smithsonians about once every month, and i havent been to a museum proper since coming to China. This one blew me away. ShanXi (the province where you'll find Xi'An) IS China. This is the place where QinShiHuang united 7 kingdoms to form the nation that we first call "China." As such, the museum was loaded with artifacts. Over numerous multi-floored buildings, one may walk around and watch as civilization developed bit by bit, as everything is laid out in chronological fashion. Very interesting, especially when you're a history nerd. Even more if you're a history nerd who can read Chinese. Wonderful time.

After that it was dark and we were tired, so the first full day found its end. We hoofed back across the city, snagged dinner, and that was that.

Journey to the West

2006-02-06T05:21:00.000-05:00

Back at the laptop again, pounding the keys between classes with the kiddies. For those just tuning in or totally oblivious to Chinese culture, we're smack in the middle of Spring Festival (Chinese New Year) meaning a week-long vacation for me. Hooray. For more of you, those who haven't rigorously studied Chinese/Buddhist culture/history, "Journey to the West" stands as one of their great masterpieces, a multi-volumed epic depicting the adventures of a pair of monks joined by the monkey king and pig-boy in a quest to retrieve the great spiritual tomes from India. The story began and ended in Chang'An, now Xi'An. That's where my latest adventure begins.

So strap yourselves in and prepare for a trip through the ages of China. We've got accounts of emperors and immorals, snow-capped mountains and fog-drenched metropoli.

And apparently radioactive children at play.

Ray Charles Had Some Good Advice

2006-01-25T08:58:00.000-05:00

A'ight. Tomorrow we begin the third big adventure, one which I might just call "The Legend of China: A Bill to the Past."

I'm heading to Xi'An, the ancient capital of China and one of its first and most frequent. On the docket: terra-cotta warriors! Yes, these millenial-old statues marched into the afterlife alongside Emperor Qin. What else: A vibrant Muslim quarter as Xi'An stands as the gateway to China's west. And lets not forget Hua Shan, the summit of choice for this romp. There will be more of course, but I don't want to give it all away.

It's a plane ride tomorrow, first to Beijing for a nice layover and then onto Xi'An by evening. Coming home its a train ride: only 20+ hours, surprisingly. I'm hoping to catch some of the rigid ShanXi landscape from my bunk. Plus training it home saves a chunk 'o' cash.

The 40G loaded up a handful of new albums to explore during the travel. Here's the line-up:
Wilco: A Ghost is Born
U2: How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
Ray!: Soundtrack
The Triplets of Belleville: Soundtrack
The Motorcycle Diaries: Soundtrack
Stan Getz: Big Band Bossa Nova
The Beatles: Let It Be... Naked
Nas: Illmatic

Music selection varies around Harbin, and I gotta wonder where and how some things seem to get popular here, but as CDs are quite cheap, its fun to experiment. And affordable.

So thats that, time to sign off for a week or so... officially. I'll be back with a detailed rundown as soon as I can.

Happy Chinese New Year. XinNian KuaiLe. WanShi(r)RuYi. Gong Xi Fa Qian. ZaiJian!

Holiday Road

2006-01-24T23:15:00.000-05:00

China has got some whacky ideas concerning scheduling (there is currently a big debate about the definition of overtime and "24 hours a week" around my office) but the schools do follow a understandable two-semester system with equally long breaks in the winter and summer. The winter break, which we're on right now, is long because it has to accomodate Spring Festival (Chinese New Year) which no one ever seems to know when its going to happen till a month before. And as it goes on for 15 days they need enough elbow room to swing it.

But the necessity to improve ones worth is unceasing in China, what with so many people and not so many jobs or spots in schools. So even if a kid gets a vacation from public school he probably gets a boat load of hours at other extracurricular schools during the vacation time. School like mine.

We call these classes "camp," but don't think it to be all macaroni pictures and panty raids. In fact, its just regular class at an irregular time. But luckily for the teenaged students, we do take them out of Harbin for a few nights to a 'holiday house.'

Spending time with these teenagers really demonstrated some major contrasts between childhood in China and back in the States. The activities that really grabbed these kids would not only have seemed commonplace to my eyes when I was that aged but probably blase if not flat out lame. Surprisingly enough, the 20-something TAs had just as much fun as the teenagers.

For me it was just a nice break from the city. I got to see the stars, experience cold in the neighborhood of -30F, get some swimming and bowling in, and just get a change of scenery. They had a ski hill too, but it was about as large as my neighbor's front yard back in Byfield where we used to sled as kids. Certainly not a ski hill.

Again, I'd write more but I'm pressed for time. I'll give a preview of the upcoming travel tonight.

Bring It, Bitch

2006-01-24T07:26:00.000-05:00

Spring Festival approaches, and with it we welcome the Year of the Dog. Plus the requisite Golden Week of Travel. Plus the prerequisite wining and dining. And more wining. Then maybe karaoke. Luckily, avoiding the trashy Russian bar everyone goes to when too tanked to function.

If you haven't guessed from the picture, I opted to show off my newly tailor-made three piece navy suit. Its quality. And I wont tell you how much it cost, because you probably wouldn't believe me. I'm going to have two more made, one grey flannel, and then an undetermined color. I don't think I'm a pinstripe guy, so I'm thinking of another color altogether, but I digress.

But take heed, if you don't expect rambling, you're at the wrong blog. Again, I digress.

Last night we had a bi-monthly full staff meeting. It lasted two hours, and we finally got these ridiculous teacher evaluations redesigned so that we can get applicable feedback from our classes. The old form had a question "Is the class too fast or too slow?" And all you'd be told is "9.6." What the hell did 9.6 mean? Is 10 fast and 1 slow? Is It Yes/No? What? Don't worry about it? Oh Christ. We're all pretty happy around the "waijiao bangongshi" (gongbanshi? i always get confused on this one) towards the change. Lesa gave a lecture on the psychology of toddlers and pre-teens. We played a crazy language/communication game that was surprisingly fun.

Then we got to the Golden Elephant, Harbin's 6 floor "Thai" hot spot. We got a history here: riotous feasting the evening after school-wide rafting trip and that first night I really got to know Bob and met a host at this very restaurant named Babu who makes these delicious peanut butter crisp cake dealies off-menu. Couldn't find ol' Babu last night, so no peanut butter delights. Most of what we got wasn't so much "Thai" as just high-end Chinense served in golden, elephant-shaped bowls. Don't get me wrong, it was well-received, but, I don't want to get into it now.

But we got entertainment on top of the food! The girls at our main branch put together a little song and dance routine that involved Sun, our driver, throwing a paper cut-out of dog turd around the floor. The girls from the other branch did the Macarena. Heeeeeey! Macarena! Ai! Ai! Ai! If we had any more Chinese staff I would have expected the Funky Chicken (isn't that the name of the crazy over-played polka that has a dance associated with it that invloves flapping your arms like chicken wings?). Maybe the Icky Shuffle.

But the foreign staff fired back, and returned with the ol' pretend-your-fishing-and-catch-a-fish-which-is-acted-out-by-some-other-person boogie. I remember shaking my own butt.

After eating more than a bit we had some games. Hula hoops were involved. I had been out of the room when they divided up teams, so when I walked in I was swarmed by these little Chinese girls, all my co-workers, pulling and fighting over me. It's good to be Bill.

At some point a trivia question went down and i walked away with 1/4 of the prizes with a total of three: a washcloth that became my hat, a dangly charm of coins sown together into a bucky-ball type shape, and a huge bag of sunshine flower seeds.

It wasn't all fun and games though: there was HaPi to enjoy. If I've never told you, Harbin was the first place I ever lost sobriety, so the local brew is a little special for me. No preservatives, so you can't get it outside the city, and its cheap and its good. Hoo-rah.

We were also welcoming back two teachers, one who had been home visiting parents and another who came back after a few months hiatus. All were in a celebrant mood.

We eventually degraded to karaoke, but soon everyone's interest drifted and we began to break up. Actually, I think we were asked to leave or something, maybe our time allotment for the reservation was up, the place was closing, or what, I dunno.

I'll be blogging like crazy tomorrow. Or at least so me thinks. I gotta get some stories out (Holiday House adventures, Travel Plans, other stuff) before I take off for my vacation in ShanXi on Thursday. Keep your eyes peeled.

Xin Nian Kuai Le.

DUKE NUKED

2006-01-21T19:05:00.000-05:00

You know that old breakdancing move where you spin on your back like crazy? I just did that on my floor after jumping off walls and punching the air and kicking a pile of books across the room.

Hibbidy Dibbidy.

I'm Going to Xi'An

2006-01-20T08:23:00.000-05:00

Terra cotta warriors. Another moutain to climb. Big Buddha. It'll be great. I leave Thursday. I'll write more before then, as my health is back. In the meantime...

The Ol' Factory

2006-01-17T07:03:00.000-05:00

I've been told that the sense of smell is the sense most closely linked to one's memory. I believe it. Now, as my nose slowly but surely re-opens (if you haven't kept up to date with my whining, I've been bloody sick for a week or so) I just took a good draw off my bottle of "Man of Aran," a cologne I picked up while traveling through Ireland's Burren with my family back in March '04. Instantly, boom, images of the ignatious landscape and brittle flowers poking out from in between weathered crevices flooded my mind. A nice break from the tedium of study and cold.
But it leads me to think, what smells will bring my mind back to China long after I leave? There are good smells: roasting nuts on the street, sweet potatoes being steamed, my favorite bowl of soup at my favorite soup hut. And the smell of a #2 meal from KFC. I hate to say it, but I'm programmed to water at the scent of a #2 spicy chicken sandwich. Sue me.
Unfortunately, I think I'm going to have many more less pleasant ones. And so I introduce my line of scents to bring one, mentally, back to Harbin long after having left:
- Parfum de Puking-Man-At-10AM
- Toliette Without Water
- Chanel #1.3 Billion Who Only Bath Maybe Once A Week
- Is That Fish?
- No, It's The Cook!
- Eau de Ewwwwwwwwww
- Musk of Snotty Toddler (For Men)
- Scent of Pissy Toddler (For Women)
- Black Lung (contains a top note of coal dust)
Please feel free to add your own in the comments section. I promise to read them once I'm no longer an enemy of a state.

I'm Not Dead...

2006-01-15T09:51:00.000-05:00

I just feel that way. Or worse. I'm currently fighting through a fever/flu combo that blindsided me a week ago. Likely brought on by the extreme cold and dozens of snot-nosed toddlers coughing all over me every weekend. I'll be posting more regularly again once I can think straight and these visions of Hostess cakes participating in a synchonized swimming competition disappear.

-17

2006-01-13T18:13:00.000-05:00

-17. Its -17 degrees out today. Faranheit. Christ. Cold. So very, very cold.

The Ballad of John McCarthy

2006-01-11T08:07:00.000-05:00

There are strange things done under the Chinese sun
by those who teach young and old;
I have seen Great Walls and water falls
and eaten off dishes covered in mold;
The Harbin nights have seen fun sights
But the most enjoyable I ever did see;
Was that night quite nice and filled with ice
When I was visited by John McCarthy.

Now John and I are Hoyas and graduated in ought-three,
But as Harbin is mine, Qinghuangdao is home to Mr. McCarthy.
He set out on a trip which led to me, waiting at the Harbin train station,
I waited for him in the cold, grabbed his bags, and we set out for an international trade negotiation.

How we got invited to business such as this escapes my feeble mind,
We spent the morning avoiding serious talk or anyone not of our lowly kind.
As we talked of basketball and friends old memories did stir,
But most important was avoiding the Indian who internationally exported fur.

From lunch we went to shop, and from shop to a stroll,
And as we finalized the night's plans we downed beer to ward off the cold.
Then with tickets in our pockets and thermals under our jeans,
We boarded the bus for the famous Ice and Snow World of Harbin.

Oh the lights! On the magnificence! Oh the scope of it all!
Ice castles! Snow Buddhas! Even a sled-able Ice Great Wall!
With snow mobiles, tanks, and even an all-ice bar to enjoy,
I wasn't even shocked to see a life-sized Ice-Tolstoy!

Our party started with seven but quickly fell to two,
Leaving only John and I to see Ice and Snow World through.
But damn be the cold and damn be frostbite's fear,
As we were boozed up thanks to multiple bottles of beer!

When all was said and done the night continued on,
And once again we were with Jordan, Sarah, Rachael, Jenn, and Sean.
Over meat on sticks we made plans for the eve,
Drinks here, dances there, a drunken path we set to weave.

From SongJi to HIT, then later in the night,
A chic new club called "Babyface," where we were the only honkies in sight.
Steadfast Blues was the obvious next spot,
And finally Brezhnev's, whose dumplings I love. Not.

530 AM we got back home, partied out and spent,
Dreading the day's hangover and all of its torment.
There were a few more stories, but nothing worth a decree,
That one night was long and fun enough for Mr. McCarthy.

There are strange things done under the Chinese sun
by those who teach young and old;
I have seen Great Walls and water falls
and eaten off dishes covered in mold;
The Harbin nights have seen fun sights
But the most enjoyable I ever did see;
Was that night quite nice and filled with ice
When I was visited by John McCarthy.

He Might Be A Better Teacher, But...

2006-01-11T08:01:00.000-05:00

I got better hair.

One of my comrades in arms, a strapping young buck from Canada way who took off in search of adventure and English teaching assignments across Asia, has got his own blog going for your enjoyment. While this buddy no longer resides in Harbin, he's still got a bit to say on the subject, and more on Canada, Asia, teaching, and life in whole.

Check out "A Canadian in Taiwan" at http://shawthai.blogspot.com

NOW!

Well, That Was Awesome

2006-01-04T07:58:00.000-05:00

That might have been the best class I have ever taught. We discussed the difference between 'optician' and 'optometrist.' They dared me to take out my contact lens but they squealed when I called their bluff. Following half-time we proceeded to brainstorm then write about the components of a Good Life. One kid wrote that one must possess Good Prestidigitation (Go Victor!) and sassy little Shelly explained how life would only be misery without Good Hair.

Yes! My Students!

SIDENOTE: Read the Wall Street Journal, they've got a great little article on Harbin.

2,322 Days Later

2006-01-03T09:28:00.000-05:00

I just did something I don't think I have done since I showed up on campus for my Freshmen year at Georgetown: I willingly put on a Dave Matthews album for my listening enjoyment.

Wow. A little weird.

Do not expect the same to happen for any other forsaken acts any time soon. I have already lost too much precious Oingo-Boingo time.

Some Call It Regression

2006-01-02T07:01:00.000-05:00

Well, Happy New Year. Glad you finally caught up with me, I've been livin the 'ought-six' life hours longer than you. Im in the future. We got flyin cars.

Actually, we don't, and if anything you might say I'm living in the past. The past few days have been rough as my hot water heater conked out. This meant I could still shower, but it was only with water fresh from a pipe that runs outside through kilometers of -10F cold (yes, I just mixed metric and American, get used to it). Not exactly how I consider a good morning starting off... freeze burns. All the pain of being burnt by fire but with none of the fun!

Anyways, I got a repair dude over my apartment between classes today.
"So whats your problem?"
"My water heat is not heating water. The light is on, its plugged in, but it isn't doing anything."
"Mhm. This water heat here?"
"Yup, that is it. It isn't working."
"Not working, eh?"
"Yeah, its not heating water. I already told you."
"Uh-huh. Got it." *SLAM!!!* (Smacks the heater unit with an open palm) "It'll work now."

Have I been so coddled by Western technology that I couldn't slap a faulter heater properly? Am I so dependent on the guarantee that things will work properly that I would so easily oversee such a solution to such a problem? Is this worth complaining about, or should I truly be revelling in the greatness that is my homeland?

Six in one; I get by. This is far from the first bungled step I've taken with technology since I got here. Some have been easy as pie, some more annoying, while others I've just given up on. I know when I return I'll be agape at the ease of so many daily tasks.

Like laundry! I don't know why, but many readers have emailed me about my laundry situation. Well, I got an electric washer that I need to carry and dump water into (annoyingly tedious) combo'ed with a spin dryer. No heat in that dryer, just spinning. Spinning does little to nothing in getting your clothes dry, especially the heavy clothes we need up here on the tundra. So I hang my clothes. But, well, here is where I used to hang my clothes:

Thats my balcony about a month ago. You can't see much through the windows as they are covered in ice, now even more than when that picture was taken. Actually, the ice level really jumped around Christmas when I was making chili out there. Now the walls are lined with (what I can only imagine to be) delicious chili-ice. My coworkers are waiting for the day I call in sick because my tongue is frozen to my wall.

Chili-ice or not, that balcony is now damn cold. Too cold to dry my clothes before yielding a crop of stainsicles. So we improvise. And now my kitchen looks more like this:

I really should just pay the $.50 for dry cleaning.

Luca Wang Sleeps with the Fishes

2005-12-31T03:16:00.001-05:00

Don't front with a fo'ner.

Yesterday afternoon one of my Canadian coworkers was harrassed by a taxi driver. He tried to overcharge her, then he tried to lock her in his cab, at some point he kicked her in the stomach, and in the end it was simply a bad scene.

My coworker told our Chinese staff.

They called their boss.

She called her husband, the Chief of Police.

He dispatched a mob.

I found out this afternoon that the fronting cab driver was captured, physically beat by four police officers, then slapped with a fine.

I'm not sure how to feel about all this. One one hand it seems like justice was found, but on the other hand I'm not really sure if what was served was truly justice. Yeah, in a way, I'm happy the cab driver got his dues, but I'm not a fan of police beatings and if you grew up in the US when I did I don't know how anyone could be a fan. And as an SFS grad, institutions that work as such when inspired by personal connections and not responsibility, well, I won't get started there...

Hey, its New Year's Eve!

Total Anarchy

2005-12-28T00:22:00.000-05:00

Christmas came to Harbin. That is for sure. But it did not stay long, at least not in spirit.

Sunday, Christmas Day, I spent 8 hours teaching. It wasn't bad, I was thankful to be around people and not alone for the holiday, even if 'being around people' meant doing my job. Most of the day I was quite chipper and playful, all save for one loss of temper to a kid who pushes my buttons every Sunday morning by throwing pencils or kabonging his classmates on their heads.

"IT MAY BE CHRISTMAS, NICK, BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN I HAVE TO BE NICE!"

Nick got the point. The rest of my classes were quite enjoyable. Once the working day was over the boss treated us to a Western style dinner at a restaurant everyone, for sone reason, kept describing as "posh." The spread was nice, though the comfort foods of my own Christmas Past lay absent from the table, but so did traditional Chinese fare and that was good enough for me. Plus I smuggled in my last bottle of Dewars. Hooray.

Waking up on the 26th I had no commitment till our school's Christmas Party at 6 PM. The day was relaxing, but it didn't matter. Not once that party started.

I guess this Christmas Party is a yearly event, or at least is attempting to become one as this was the "Second Annual." Night 1, the 26th, we had invited the older students. Night 2 would be the littler ones. I was supposedly hosting Night 2 but I didnt know what that entailed. Once I saw how Night 1 was going down, I realized noone had any idea what anything entailed.

Monday night, for over two hours, I simply sat in a chair and slowly lost hearing to an infernal din of screaming kids, popping balloons, and incessent feedback. No one could hear any performance. The "hostess" never did anything after her first little introduction. The kids were bored, discipline and organization were no where to be seen, and in the end it just became a free-for-all as gifts were attempted to be handed out by raffle or by Santa.

I won't lie, it was hysterical to watch the kids storm screaming for gifts or candy only then to watch them drop one by one as flying treats smacked them in eyes, noses, and other areas across the general face area.

Determined to avoid these problems while taking my turn as host (Night 1 only had a single Chinese staff member hosting, Night 2 was supposed to be me, a Chinese staff member, and two kids) I spent most of Night 1 discussing with my co-hostess everything that was going wrong and how we could fix it for our night. We came up with a long list of good ideas that we both liked a lot and that the other Chinese girls thought were great ideas. With hope, Night 2 wouldn't be the fiasco Night 1 became after only 10 minutes.

Well, I've learned the power of the boss in China. All-encompassing. Unquestionable. Blind. Most every suggestion got shot down, and the girls (who after 10 months have come to trust me quite a bit) all told me they disagreed with the boss but they couldn't do anything about it. I follow a "function before form" philosophy, the boss the inverse, and each to such an extent that the language barrier is far from our biggest problem. Good example: my co-hostess, who thought it was a revolutionarily amazing idea to have all the staff meet an hour before the party to simply walk through the program and understand who would be responsible for what, didn't show up to the school until 30 minutes before the show. Why? Because the boss didn't approve of her make-up (it was tastefully done) and wanted more make-up (trailer-trash quantities) applied and the prom dress slightly altered. Why? Who cares? Moments before the show? Removing the only staff member who had the answers to all questions? I dunno.

Night 2 did go better than Night 1. We ended on time, kept everything in the program, and the kids were comparatively well-behaved. Not that I haven't had my share of Exedrin lately or that my ears are still ringing.

And now it is back to business as usual. There is a silly schedule flip up mix around, as there seems to be whenever anyone in China gets a day off work... I really don't know how to explain this but I'll try in person at some point. Anyways, this week defines a slack schedule but next week I'm getting slammed with two weekends. It'll take a lot out of me, but thanks to my schedule as is (heavy weekends, little during the week) its going to put a nice wad of RMB in my pocket. So I got that goin' for me.

'Twas the Night Before Christmas...

2005-12-24T07:35:00.000-05:00

I faltered in my Christmas postings, but I'm making up for it in spades.

It snowed today, and I mean really snowed. Up until now, I hadn't really seen a flake. It seemed more that it got cold and a heavy layer of frost materialized upon the surfaces of Harbin. But today brought snow. Christmas Eve brought snow. This is bigger than big for me. This is huge. Bowlful of jelly huge.

I started the day with the littlest of my little childrens, my Go-Go class. Usually I dread these munchkins, but today I couldn't stop laughing with them. We made stockings out of paper and during the mid-class break I snuck gifts of pencils and pig-shaped erasers in while they were not looking. The response was wild. The second half of class was all "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" and "Jingle Bells." Normally these carols would ring the crazy right into me, but today the choreography my TA had arranged was just too damn cute. And that little racist kid I've mentioned (bless his heart) just kept prancing around like a ballerina.

In the afternoon, with my pre-teens, we did a "Night Before Christmas" mad-lib and wrote letters to Santa. Many of those kids wanted AK-47s, one wanted a magic broom like Harry Potter's, and the girls just wanted the boys to shut up. The night, and its advanced class, consisted of "A Christmas Carol" (well, the Mickey version), "A Charlie Brown Christmas," and finally, "Twas the Night Before Christmas."

But the real fun begins now.

No one made any plans to exchange gifts. Even the girlfriends/boyfriends agreed not to buy each other any thing, or if they did, it was a joint effort and resulted in toaster ovens or sweaters for dogs. I'm the guy who rejected Secret Santa. I'm the guy whos been running around like a headless chicken for the past week. I'm also the guy who has a bagful of gifts for everyone at my feet.

In an hour I'm sneaking back into my school with said bagful of gifts and a Christmas tree. We don't have a Christmas tree in our school, at least not a proper one. So I'm bringing mine in. Shall be glorious. I've got teddy bears and candy for all the Chinese girls, handpicked gifts for my fellow foreigners, and finally cookies and treats to spread out all around.

That not enough? Well, I made a big deal about leaving cookies out for Santa in our lobby. I stood guard and scolded any kid who dared touch the precious baked goods. "Thems be Santa's cookies," sez I, "and ye best leave them be!"

Want more? I've composed a poem that I'll be sending from an anonymous account later tonight. In true Bill fashion, no one will really understand it until they see the decked out hall I'll be leaving for the morning surprise. Then it will all click.

I'm exceptionally excited. I've been a kid at Christmas before, but this is the first time I've ever really played Santa. I got to tell you, right now, it feels like a much greater high. I envy those Santas who graced this child's eyes with Christmas Day surprises like 1988's Nintendo Entertainment System. Dollars to donuts I can get that particular Mrs. Claus to cry when I give the old Byfield outpost of the North Pole workshop a call tomorrow.

But now the magic hour approaches, and before this here Santa boards his slay his must check upon his Christmas Chili and down a bit more of his Christmas Spirit (yes, Aunt K, I am enjoying my Dewars). When it's all said and done I'll be setting to my traditional Christmas Eve emailing. When I wake up tomorrow I'll be back in the fray of 8 hours of teaching, but it won't be so bad. I'll know that that while I'll be teaching the entire morning, back in Byfield there will be the usual monstrous festivity on 1 Johnson Lane. How I wish I could be there. But, while I can't: to the Robinsons, the Stoehrs, the Galinos, the Boisverts, the Marinos and all of Byfield; to the Kearns, the Burkes, the Weiss' (yes, I know you're Jewish), the Dwyers, the Wintermantels, the Norwoods, the Cooneys, the Chiltons, the Mrazics, the Byrnetts, the Gerardens, the Ayers, the Bergs, the Storys, the Bunnetts, the Flathers, and all Phillipians and Hoyas; to the BALers, to the Sunshiners (let them be Chinese, Canadian, Australian, or American); to Aunt Kaethe and all the O'Neil aunts, uncles, and cousins; and especially to Kodak, Allie, Quinn, Brendan, Mom, and Dad:

Merry Christmas!

China: Where the Hell is the the Egg Nog?!

2005-12-21T11:34:00.000-05:00

Or the Nog of any kind?

Related: Simpsons really have already done everything.

Another Notch on the Cross

2005-12-19T06:10:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm 25 now. In related news, I ache all over. I do not think I need to explain the correlation between these two occurences.

Thank you to all who sent well wishes. I, myself, am terrible when it comes to remembering birthdays so I am always shocked when people remember my own. If only I had some sort of record-keeping device that could track the days of the year and tell me when important events were scheduled to happen... if only...

Anyways, thank you to my parents and siblings, all my other relatives (Aunt Kaethe has got my sense of humor nailed, see adjoining picture), my friends back home and my friends here in China. Most surprising, many of my students even gave me gifts and cards proving that despite my lack of confidence in my actual teaching ability I do run an excellent cult of personality. You all made this crank's day.

Now, not to brag so much as to share, let me show off some of my gifts.

First up is this cup gifted by the lovely little teaching assistant Sissi. We still can't decide if it should be a drinking vessel or a pencil holder, but that is besides the point. The outside of the cup depicts four different plants; (I think) bamboo, chrysanthemums, orchids and something else. Sissi enlightened me that these plants represent four qualities the Chinese believe will lead to a long life: (again, I think) temperance, stability, patience, and something else. When Sissi told me that she chose this gift because these were qualities she found strong in my own character I could not help but guffaw. Yes, guffaw. "Thank you for the compliment, Sissi, but I don't know if I'll agree with you so easily. But I will look to this cup everytime a student pushes my nerves a bit too far. Then, if they keep pushing, I'll hurl this cup at their head."

Here's a card from one of my pre-teen students:

Thank you Joyce. So do I.

Finally, and I'm hoping this is more due to the fact that these are gifts from 13/14 year old girls and not due to some vibe I was unaware I was setting off...

Not to sound gay or nothin', but I think dolphins are totally kickass.

Now, while I am poking a bit of fun, these gifts actually mean a lot to me. Wendy's, Lucy's, and Clare's sentiments hit home and really made this 25th quite special. Thank you, girls.

Now what will the next year hold for our adventurous hero? Lord only knows. The immediate future likely holds the initial foray into the Moore Bonds, then sweet sweet sleep. I'm getting old, after all.

From the WTF Files...

2005-12-16T19:47:00.000-05:00

The following is a translated transcript from my 8AM Saturday morning 5 yr olds class:

"Hello Teacher! Guess what?!"
"What?"
"I've got cancer on my brain! Yippee!"

O Tannenbaum

2005-12-15T08:52:00.000-05:00

Where's Linus when I need him?

Thank You

2005-12-14T09:49:00.000-05:00

Last spring, while still green towards this whole teaching gig, I found myself working my way through 18 weeks of "Literature" for English majors at the Harbin University of Science and Technology. The department assigned "Robinson Crusoe" and "A Tale of Two Cities," a pair of books that deserve good attention but a pair of books that proved an almost insurmountable task for the students assigned to my class.

In the end, despite a small handful of good students, I walked away from that experience rather jaded. Too much went wrong. Too often was my careful planning thrown back in my face. The harder I tried the more I seemed to fail, and the less I cared the better it seemed to go.

Eleven weeks ago I was given a new assignment, one that didn't exactly perk my enthusiasm. I had been scheming and coniving since the June to lock my scheduled hours into a configuration that guaranteed I'd never have to teach at HUST again. I didn't think I could handle the disappointment that first experience served all over again. And certainly not with a once-a-week, three-hour, no-direction-given-whatsoever non-English-major course.

I'm happy to say these kids proved me wrong.

I've explained how many Chinese students are forced into the English major as their admission scores were not high enough for other subjects. The result of all this usually manifests itself as lethargy or apathy towards their studies. But these kids were shooting for a second degree, they didn't view English as a requirement but as an opportunity. And that made all the difference in the world.

They were law majors and computer science majors. Some had ridiculous names like Mermaid or Garfield (a girl, yes, named after that craptacular movie) or Oven. Some never came to class and subsequently failed their exam yesterday, but most came and many participated wholeheartedly.

They'll probably never see this, and even if they did they probably wouldn't understand it. In fact, if you've never taught it'd be difficult for anyone to understand it, but those kids gave me a little faith back; back in China, back in teaching, and back in myself. Thanks.

PS: If you noticed the blackboard, yes, I was referencing "The Matrix" as we were doing some riddles and the topic of anagrams came up. As long as it gets the students to start talking, I don't care how trite or worn any topic may be.

The Way Things (Shouldn't) Work

2005-12-13T19:12:00.000-05:00

Here's something I never thought I'd be homesick for: paying bills.

My utilities are not many, and they are not expensive, but they can be damn annoying. I've got water (well, sometimes), gas, internet, electricity, and garbage disposal. Garbage disposal consists of an old woman who supposedly walks up and down my unit stairs all day sweeping and taking out the trash that we, the tenants, throw into the hallway. Yes, that is the way we take out our trash, we just through it out the door into the hall. Its fun when youre drunk and or bored.

So where is my complaint? Well, look at the picture of my outer door above. You should see a good number of ripped off postings and these are my bills. At least some of them. Basically what happens is that, perhaps, I pay for electricity, maybe paying for how much I have recently used or maybe paying forward and establishing a credit, and then when the company decides it wants to collect a debt or my credit goes dry someone sticks a posting outside my door or outside my unit door. After they stick the bill on the door maybe you get three days to find a payment office and settle up.

I can't figure out how these collections are timed, all I know is that they are never timed conveniently. For instance, if the bill gets posted on Thursday I most likely won't have time to pay it before Monday due to my teaching schedule. That means I will probably wake up after the weekend to no electricity. Also, I can't pay these things myself, no matter how hard I try, so I also need to find some help, which is annoying.

Then there is the internet, which doesn't give any sort of warning, they just shut off my connection when my money runs dry.

The oddest of all has got to be the little old ladies who knock on my door and scream for payment. Water and garbage disposal get taken care of in this manner. Again, its somewhat, er, spastic in execution. I used to pay every other month for garbage, a decently regular schedule, but I havent seen that woman since perhaps September. As for water, I paid my first water bill last month. For nine months it totalled about US$2.

I've never paid for gas.

Sure, its all cheap, but its annoying. I long for the days of instant credit card payments, monthly statements, and warnings months in advance. I can understand when my electricity gets shut off because I'm broke or delinquent, but it drives me insane if its due to a flawed and lazy system.

Good Perro!

2005-12-12T06:04:00.000-05:00

The Aeroperro (one of the only two blogs I can still read) found a great video of Chinese driving skills. Download it from here: http://home.pacific.net.au/~bhaz-dsl/nanchang.wmv

Few notes:
1. Whoever put this together doesn't have very good PinYin
2. Harbin drivers are notorious for being China's worst. This video would be a good day at the intersection 3 blocks from my apartment.

Entertainment's Value

2005-12-12T05:28:00.000-05:00

The other day my father, fully aware of my vices, asked if there were any special DVDs he could send me for Christmas. This is my reply:

Thanks Dad, but I'm doin' fine.

Since arriving in China I've made close to 200 DVD purchases. Some of these have been TV shows, some box sets; and so in all well over 200 individual DVDs.

You can find a DVD store on almost any corner here and most discs run betweem 6 and 8 RMB. Sometimes the quality halts at man-with-camera-in-theater, sometimes its a pre-release item given to critics to review ("screeners"), often a perfect copy of the acutal release (though likely sans-special features). The hard part is finding anything thats not exceptionally mainstream or uber-popular and it is certainly not difficuly to find crap. "Garfield," for instance, is still a top seller here in China.

We teachers lend a lot of movies and TV shows around, encouraging others to try something we discovered in the local DVD bin. My copy of "Lost - Season 1" quickly made rounds through the entire staff and some of the girls are burning through "Seanfield." One of our new guys asked for a load of zombie movies one day (and got "Night of the Living Dead," "Undead," "Shaun of the Dead," "Beyond Re-Animator," "Army of Darkness," "Resident Evil 1 & 2," "Friday the 13th Part 1," and "Land of the Dead") and tonight I'll be picking out children's movies for our winter camp.

So, again Dad, I think I'm doing fine. But is there something I can get you?

PS- In your eye, Scott Weiss!

Those Other Holidays (C-15)

2005-12-10T07:09:00.000-05:00

I'll be one of the first to admit that I might not be the most qualified to really teach about Hannukha or Kwanzaa, but I am the only one I know doing it in China. And while I was born, bred, and baptized Roman Catholic (every sperm is sacred...) it doesn't mean I'm blind to other traditions. Of course, I'm American, which means I was lucky enough to have been raised with open eyes. Now, for some reason, I'm knee-deep in Chinese who barely understand the faith which is supposedly my own and I find myself compelled to teach about those which are not. Again, this is probably because I'm American.

So this week I've done two lessons, both in my advanced classes, revolving around these two celebrations. My info comes straight from the World Book Encylcopedia with a little (again, little) personal experience thrown in (eg: I am aware that Hannukha is not the highest of Jewish holidays, and I do make sure to communicate that to my students). It works out nicely because the two have many similar aspects that my brightest kids immediately link. I feeled justified because their eyes are opening to something outside of either China or Hollywood. Plus I know that somewhere Jon Lovitz is smiling.

However, if you havent sumised yourself, I still know next to nothing about Kwanzaa. But I am trying. It makes more sense than Boxing Day, I'll tell you that much.

So put on your yamulke, and drink your gin-and-tonic-a, and have a happy happy happy happy Hannukha. And Kwanzaa!

That Which Shall Not Be Named

2005-12-09T07:44:00.000-05:00

When you're making your way through a foreign land you should be aware that certain words should be avoided. Since arriving in China I've been conscious enough to keep from making even the slightest joke upon the people swarming around me. Being PC is all well and good, but its all for naught here as they either 1. don't understand that a few words/phrases in the English language are derogatory towards them or 2. they actually think its funny; e.g. 'slant eyes' or 'yellow people.' I've never introduced these terms myself, my students blurb them out. I just tell them to shut up.

However there is one word I now actively avoid using at all costs. "Friend." Yeah. Don't say it.

All Chinese understand this word, but it means much more to them than it might to us. Friendship in China is much more complex than back home and a "friend" can pervade every aspect of your life. Some Chinese do monopolize on this belief, I refer to that strain as "Users" and they are horrendously annoying. These are the students who come to sit in my class, state "I hope we can be friends," and if I oblige they immediately ask me to write their application essays for US universities (They also want me to do this for free and have no intention of ever returning to my class). These are the people who sit next to me in KFC and if I consent to a desire for "friendship" I'm barraged with requests to follow them to a disco or party where they'd like to show me off to their friends. These are the situations that I now avoid with my patented variety of vague answer. Ah, to be a politician.

I have friends in China and some are Chinese. I've got a good number of friends back home, all of whom I miss. These are people who don't ask me for anything but who I probably give the most. They certainly arent showing me off like some prize animal or using me to squirm into the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave. They also probably realize that this entry is poorly written drivel and will mock me for posting it. Tough. I'm tired.

Three Snowy Vignettes (C-16)

2005-12-09T07:42:00.000-05:00

I.
Turkey Hill stood as the greatest of sledding slopes: a sharp drop from the top till about mid-way, a sudden and short plateau, then a gradual decline to the stone wall guarding adventurous children from the seldom-used back road and opposing lake.

My sled was a long, blue plastic bullet ridged specially to cut the snow while providing control. Gripping both sides in my hands, I charge down the hill in hopes to kicking up enough inertia to really launch off the mogul we had piled upon that mid-way plateau.

Hitting the snow belly first (and simultaneously knocking the wind out of my lungs) I instantly realized that not only would I nail that jump, but some serious air would be put between the tundra and my eight year old frame. Sure enough, both came true as I hurtled into the atmosphere.

“Hurtled” really is the best word, for immediately after hitting the jump my hands let loose the sled and my body began some variety of triple-half-gainer-Immelian-lutz or another stunt that would grab the envy of the entire Flying Circus. Regardless, all instincts told me that this monumental jump would end in nothing but a mighty face plant.

Surprised was I when I landed firmly back on my sled and continued to rocket down that hill. Face first into that stone wall. Through the stone wall. Across the backroad. Out onto the frozen lake. Finally skidding to a halt. Realizing that no sledding experience could ever top that single run. None ever did.

II.
Rockwell had mustered up 30 or so of the 44 high school freshmen who lived in the dorm to challenge the few stragglers left in America House that night to a snowy rumble. Boarding only 15 first year students, half of whom were somewhere else, the odds did not look good. Regardless, we plucky few agreed to meet at a designated corner of the Great Lawn.

It began as most adolescent fights begin: lots of name calling, little action. No one wanted to be the instigator for anything that might actually get them in real trouble. Certainly not the quiet kid wearing glasses who barely spoke, a.k.a. yours truly. But for some reason something snapped and I took a challenge that was meant for my roommate.

Now, my roommate was a scrappy bastard from Topeka who had seen his fair share of tussles. I was not, nor had I. But I had been on the JV wrestling team for almost two weeks (my roommate was already varsity), so I thought I had everything under control.

The fact that my opponent was a 300 pound Korean named Cho didn’t phase me a bit. Not at first at least. We circled, I made the first move, shooting in to manipulate his balance into a trip. Well, he just sat on me.

If you’ve never had 300 pounds of Korean pushing your face into the snow, don’t try it. My cheeks began to lose feeling as fast as my dormmates were losing honor, respect, and hope. No one thought this was going to end prettily. And no one ever thought I’d actually lift those 300 pounds of Korean off my head, roll them back into the snow, and then bestow one of the most riotous whitewashings ever given.

III.
I had finally arrived in China. In a week’s time I’d be in Harbin, a city nestled deep in the Manchurian Plain and (in)famous for its chill. And even though Harbin was known as the “Ice City,” that day Beijing itself was a frozen white blur.

Saying that I had arrived in China doesn’t necessarily mean my luggage had. No, my warm clothes and insulated boots apparently ended up on a separate slow boat. All that had arrived with me were my t-shirts and underwear and the sweat shirt and coat I had worn on the plane. Outside of that: nothing that was going to effectively confront the snow coming down outside; certainly not my ratty old sneakers. (My boots were in the lost luggage as well.)

But confront it must, as I needed to exchange my traveler’s checks so I could pay for another night in my room instead of sleeping in the street. Too bad it was a government holiday. After several banks and even more kilometers, I finally had the cash I needed and so I paid up and retired to my hotel room. Cranking the heating and changing out of my snow-soaked clothes I nestled into bed with a hot cup of tea in an effort to ward off any impending ganmao or at least defrost my bones.

I was aching, shivering, congested, and beat to the core. It was my first day back in China.

Christmas Wonder (C-17)

2005-12-08T19:14:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I finally caved. I had been staring at it since I first arrived in Harbin but could never justify the purchase until now.

Stevie Wonder's "The Christmas Collection" is a excellent piece of funked-out, soulful holiday music. I've stated my distaste for celebrity Christmas albums as I find most paltry and shallow, but not Stevie's. And as "The Collection" originally debuted in 1967 it fits my 'pre-Very Special Christmas Vol. 1' criteria. So thank you Stevie, thank you for funkin' up my holidays.

1988 (C-18)

2005-12-07T10:44:00.000-05:00

1988 stands a watershed in the life of Bill. I was in second grade, Mrs. Roma Byrd's class at the Yellow School. There was probably an Olympics going on. I was introduced to Roald Dahl. Apparently my sister was born. But something much greater happend on that Christmas of Chistmases. A love affair began.

Santa gave me a Nintendo Entertainment System.

It's shocking but yet commonplace if you think about it. The video game revolution was breaking out across the country as a duo of plumbers hopped, bashed, and hurled fireballs as they made there way through the Mushroom Kingdom, told frustratingly time after time that the princess was in another castle. From that Christmas on I don't think I knew a kid without a video game system of some kind.

I remember warping the first time from 1-2 to 4-1, then 4-2 to 8-1 and then never making it past 8-3; dying each time as my grandfather mocked my every pratfall. I remember waking up to a surprise gift of Ninja Gaiden from my mother (I finally beat it freshman year at G-town). I remember anticipating every new issue of Nintendo Power and noting every issue my mother has supposedly not thrown away. I remember saving up for a year for Super Nintendo and laughing at Genesis. After that came N64. Then there was Mario Kart in French House, Bond in Foxcroft, and that week during finals where Soto, Moger and myself plowed through the newest Zelda game as Bangus watched. And yes, I was mocked for purchasing a GameCube, but I maintain that it had some of the finest games for this past generation of home consoles.

Anyways, I've scrimped and saved for new Nintendo games, I've studied strategy guides and I continue to play SNES RPGs through an emulater on my laptop. In short: I'm a total dork. A Nintendo star. I accept that. But I'll never forget nor look down upon that Christmas where I torn back wrappin to find one of the most life-changing wastes-of-time of my life.

God bless you, one and all.

The Innocence of a Child (C-19)

2005-12-06T08:20:00.000-05:00

This is Bart. Bart is always happy and excited. Bart thinks everything is awesome. Bart enjoys coloring and dancing in my class on Saturday morning. It's good to be Bart.

Be like the boy!

Buy Good Stuff Cheap (C-20)

2005-12-05T07:40:00.000-05:00

I've already whined enough about the cold here, and well, it finally got to me. The coat I came to Harbin with just doesn't cut it anymore, largely because I can not close it all the way up to my neck to keep me warm as the wind howls down upon me. So today I went to get some proper sub-arctic outerwear.

I could have bought an extremely warm parka for roughly 100RMB, but I wanted something that wasn't ugly as sin or simply ridiculous looking. Being a fan of North Face jackets since they became cool in high school, I headed to the foreign "import" (read: fell of a truck) street. I quickly found a jacket I liked that would supply the protection I needed, and then the bargaining began.

"How much for this jacket?" said I, in Chinese, to the store clerk.
"That jacket? 760 RMB."
"You're crazy! I was here with my friend last Monday and he bought a similar jacket from the same company much much cheaper than that!"
"Well, how much did your friend pay?"

Never tell a clerk what someone else might have paid in China, because if its higher than their low-end, they'll never let you bargain down. Trust me on this one.

"He didn't pay 760RMB. Give it to me cheaper."
"Ok ok. How much do you want to pay?" She wasn't going to make the first move.

My friend paid 360RMB for his, I figured I should try and undercut that by about a hundred to end up at a fair price.

"250RMB."

At this point she had to go and ask her boss if my price was cool or not. This is usually a very good sign that you're actually near the fair price, or at least the lowest that the underling store clerk is allowed to go without an OK from management. She returned and simply said:

"Ok. 220RMB. Good?"

I wasn't quite sure how that worked out, but I got out-bargained BY THE STORE I WAS BARGAINING WITH. I didn't argue though. And now I have a rather warm North Face jacket that only cost me 220RMB (about US$25). Hooray for me.

The View from My Apartment This Morning (C-21)

2005-12-04T07:39:00.000-05:00

A little snow can go a long way.

If you're interested, my school/office is right on the other side of that bridge, but you can't see it in this picture. Albeit it short, it is an extremely cold walk (and longer than this picture would have you believe, because I need to snake out of my courtyard before I even hit the street).

Fun While It Lasted

2005-12-03T18:06:00.000-05:00

There that goes. Appears as if the glorious PRC has once again placed my blog site, as well as anyone else's, behind the Great Firewall. This means that, once again, I'll be incapable of viewing my own posts or anyone else's who is hosted by blogspot.com.

The most annoying part of this is that I was just getting fully sucked into the "blogosphere." I had experienced an "instalanche" and I was linking with strangers. Sounds dangerous, I know, but I used protection. (Somewhere someone will laugh at that.)

My own blog aside (and all those other wonderfully addictive blogs listed on the side of my page there), the People's Republic went even further this time, rolling previously available sites behind the GFW, e.g. the Wall Street Journal. I'm not sure why the sudden crackdown on a reputed news source that previously stood on good terms with the Party gets the axe, but, well, there that went.

The censored media will never cease to shock me. As an American, it is difficult to imagine a life where I can't say/write/publish/read/hear/disseminate anything I wish. I constructed an activity a while ago that revolved around things Americans took for granted (milk comes in cartons or jugs, not bags; the date is mm/dd/yy; etc.) and the first item on the list was simply the First Amendment. Many of my students couldn't comprehend it.

I know the American media can be annoying. They can over-analyze, over-hype, under-play, and hound you at every corner; but I'd rather constant unwanted information at my command than a drought of desired. Check my posts around the times of the London bombing, Katrina, or the recent water fiasco here in Harbin. I can't handle being out of the loop, and you can't fault the American media for ever letting anyone fall out of the loop.

Maybe the Chinese need the censorship for a reason, but I can't think of any that I could ever agree with. But then, well, American in China = culture gap the size of the Pacific.

So, in the meantime, please send me emails of good articles from reliable sources if I'm to keep up with the rest of the world. In the meantime, I'll be sitting around waiting for the local newspaper to dry.

UPDATE: Another perfect example: A 250,000+ man protest marched the streets of Kong Kong yesterday in support of democracy. This event was not reported by the Chinese-language newspapers. It received only a small mention from the (yes, "the") English-language newspaper here. However, the English language newspaper did not mention the number "250,000+," but only described the quantity off protesters as being "a few."

White Powder (C-22)

2005-12-03T03:49:00.000-05:00

The season's first dusting fell upon Harbin today. It's nothing major, but still well appreciated. I love the snow, always have. Maybe it's because I always liked the look of our family's house covered in a heavy drift with only the ribbons on the wreaths shining out. Or maybe I just like the idea of white-washing brothers/dormmates/friendly Koreans. Regardless, hooray!

Sweet Silver Bells (C-23)

2005-12-01T20:15:00.000-05:00

Without a doubt, "Carol of the Bells" stands as my favorite Christmas song. Its always the first I download every season, and its usually the one that gets played the most frequently and lasts the longest before final deletion (until next year).

Back in grade school when I had dreams of alto saxophone virtuosity my school played an annual concert on the Newbury Town Mall (New England-speak for a park where we used to graze cows) next to the frozen pond. Being a grade school saxaphonist wasn't all the glitz and glamour that one associates with high-school or college-level saxophoning, most songs leave you nothing but bass support to the hooty-tooty flutes and clarinets. "Carol of the Bells" offered one of the few chances to really bellow out, and to do that while standing in the cold as scores of (obligated) parents watched on, well, its a good memory.

Plus few people know the words to "Carol of the Bells," and if you do, you know that they are nothing profound or outstanding. But they are certainly not annoying or excessively saccharine. I'm a fan of "Dominik the Christmas Donkey" as much as the next guy, but I prefer the majesty and awe that "Carol" instills within. Musically it is quite simple, nothing more than a layered canon, but that makes it all the better for whistling.

Runners up included: "Good King Wenceslas," "We Three Kings," and the theme from "Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown." Not even considered were: any celebrity/artist Christmas album post-"A Very Special Christmas Vol 1," "All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth," and "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer."

Commence The Christmas Countdown! (C-24)

2005-12-01T05:44:00.000-05:00

In an effort to help myself get into the Christmas spirit (which I predict might be tough here) I'm going to post one post everyday that has something to do with Christmas' past, Christmas culture, or small nuggets of joy that I might stumble upon here in China this Christmas season. Basically things that once made me happy or things that are making me happy now.

But don't worry! I'll not leave you without my usual whining and over-analyzation! But if I only focus on that, I'd probably wake up to nothing more than a big pile of coal on Christmas day!

Oh. Wait.

The Dino is Mine-O

2005-11-30T10:50:00.000-05:00

I was just watching "Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey" and I got to thinking that, if I had to play the Reaper, I'd challenge him to a game of Mario Kart 64.

Water-Lieu: Resolution

2005-11-28T19:29:00.000-05:00

It's all over now save the sqawking. And the confusion. And the executions.

Waking up on Monday morning I found my faucet capable of dripping water. A few hours later my toliet was fully flushable once more. It's official, the water is back on, and I'm quite grateful for that. The public schools are still closed until Thursday, the dead fish are still washing up along the river bank, and they'll be installing charcoal filters into the water system for a while now; but the water is back on.

The government has instituted a color-coded "water safety alert" quite similar to the wonderfully comprehensible US Terror Alert: "Red" means heavy contamiination, dont even touch this water for fear of leukemia; "Yellow" means you can do anything with it but drink; "Green" is a full-fledged A-OK. So very simple. But they still haven't notified us where this information may be posted, and so most people's water use is based upon the rumor that they choose to believe.

I can, regardless of the safety level, flush my toliet without fear of cancer.

We hear a bit more every day of how this was handled, but I don't think I'll ever get a full story. Some of the officials and workers from the company whose chemical plant exploded have gone missing; whether they have fled or have been shot we don't know. The municipal and provincial government based in Harbin has been playing ping pong with the national government in Beijing; an endless finger pointing cycle that guaratees no one left with blame. No one made any announcement to the media prior to it already being too late because no one wanted to take responsibility for admitting such a mistake. So no one did. That is why we were left in the dark for so long. That is why we're still in the dark, though to a lesser extent.

A town up-river from Harbin shut itself down 6 days before we did. They are still without water. As the weather is quite cold and the SongHua River rather shallow, a lot of the benzene finds itself frozen under beds of ice, seeping into the ground and destroying the local eco-system. Harbin itself, targeted for industrial and economic growth in the current "five-year plan," was already low on water, now I've heard that the city is 150,000 tons of water short on a daily basis as the new filters hamper flow. A second water plant was apparently begun, but construction lagged and its usefulness was lost.

The newspapers published a different story almost everyday and people invented scores of their own. At this point I don't trust what I read, a view held by many Chinese. But I can still flush my toliet again.

It has been fun playing reporter these past few days. It has not been fun not-showering, not-shaving, and not-flushing. It was even less fun being around others who were not-showering, not-shaving, and not-flushing. Of my own persoanl water supply, I've still got a basin and a half as well as my laundry machine full.

I hope you've enjoyed a first-person account of what happened here, because I'm done with this story. I need to spend some time cleaning both myself and my apartment. We now return you to our regularly scheduled ramblings.

Water-Lieu Day 5: Still No Water

2005-11-26T07:26:00.000-05:00

I'm running out of clever post titles as this supposed disaster continues. It wasn't really a disaster, and it certainly didn't need to be as whacked-out insane and... retarded as it was, but it was. Mostly thanks to lies and disinformation. My good friend Jason holds the theory that perhaps all the rumors were spread in an effort to actually create chaos and mistrust, as perhaps people will panic less if they don't know whats going on or who to trust. Either way, I found out today that MY OWN BOSS fled the city and left us here with full intention of working every possible hour despite all public schools and most private schools having been closed. Good luck getting my trust/supprt/faith back, boss. Here's looking at you.

I had to face this Saturday just like I've had to face every other Saturday: 8 hours of teaching and 12 hours around the school. As the weather is consistantly hovering just above 0, I've got to bundle up just for the two block walk. But today, not having the ability to shower, I didn't have to worry about frost forming around damp hair or aftershave freezing outright. Of course, not having the ability to shower doesn't put me in a very presentable mood, and my eyes are a bit strained from constant use of my glasses, not to mention it isnt fair to rob the world of these gorgeous baby blues. However, better to don the specs than risk a zombifiying case of the pink eye.

My first class on Saturday is "Go-Go" level, 3-5 year olds for the most part. I only had three students today, so we played Go Fish and completed an alphabet maze activity and... well, I forget what else we did. I'm really not suited for teaching this age level, but I'm stuck doing it for better or worse until we change the system (and I'm trying, don't worry!). Luckily, the snot spewing little racist couldn't make it today, so it was a bit more peaceful than usual. Good for my nerves.

Next up came "Chatterbox" with Sissi where the kids are more around the 6-10 age group. Only five students (out of 15) showed, and no way in hell was I going to continue with my lesson plan only to have to repeat it again next week, so I gave them a spelling test, played hangman (with spelling lessons tied in!), and, yes, Go Fish. I love Go Fish. It really is a great standbye.

From Chatterbox I role into "Cambridge," which stands as my bread and butter. These students are preteens-15 year olds, and I've got more Cambridge than any other level. Their ability is good enough that I can play around with them in class, but not so good that my class is ever easy. Not even close, actually. I've got a rep, that is for sure, and it does not involve playing games or being easy. Today I departed from our text book to pound prefixes and suffixes into the students who dare show, and they certainly learned something. Sure, I dangled a massive Hershey's bar in front of them as a reward, but I didn't let a single kid get a lick. They didn't finish their work fast enough. Not my problem. They know that. Seven and a half months of teaching them later and they even respect that.

Usually after my Cambridge class I vamoose to get some fresh air, often at a local cafe where I can sip a coffee and reread the Chronicles of Narnia or Catcher in the Rye over cheescake or at a cozy soup restaurant, but as the cafe is closed with the water stoppage and I don't trust a Chinese restaurant further than I can spit until the water is back on, I hung around the school. Not always a good thing, as time like this I usually drift into a really inquisitive mood and pressure answers from people who don't know. Today I was trying to learn about the Chinese legal system as a man is sueing the Party over this water debacle and the subsequent lies but, well, no one really could grasp what I was getting at. Basically what they said was "You can't sue the government, they control the courts! It's useless!" At least I got that.

The day ended with a whimper as I taught some tired advanced students about the history of Thanksgiving. Now I'm home. I'm going to have a scotch and watch a movie to unwind because I just taught 8 hours over 12 hours and thats 1/3 of my workweek. Oo-whee.

Water-Lieu Day 4: Reason (Kinda) Finds a Way

2005-11-25T05:19:00.000-05:00

Everynow and then, somehow, common sense and intelligence find a way to break through the pollution here in Harbin. (This is a metaphor to match the adjoining picture taken from the "23rd floor" office I tutor some business-type folks at every Friday! Poetic! Bill!)

We're still without water, people are still freaking out over an earthquake that can't be predicted, and hordes have fled the city. The public schools are all closed, but the private schools remain open to snag any buck, or RMB, they can.

Tonight I should have had a class but only three students showed up (usually 15). I complained, sayinig this was useless, and stated that I was going to diverge from the scheduled lesson because with so many absent students I'd just have to re-teach the lesson again next week. Well, no one listened to me, but they sure as hell listened to the mother who was flipping out for some reason or other. And as the parent's (consumer's) word is law around here, the class was cancelled.

Was it for the right reason? I don't care. I'm going to kick back and work on this never-ending DVD project of mine and watch "Lawrence of Arabia."

I never thought "snow days" could be as cool for the teacher as they were for the student. Color me wrong!

Water-Lieu Day 3: Keeping Clean, Keeping Sane, Keeping True

2005-11-24T08:31:00.000-05:00

Waking up today, the first goal was to shower. That was done at a ritzy hotel not too far away from my apartment. It was great to have a hotel room all to myself, if only for an hour. In fact, I think the shortage of time inspired my unconcious deisre to trash said hotel room, as I flooded the Noah out of the place. I repel blame, however, as the doohiky that looked like a drain cover (it was full of holes for Christ's sake!) was actually a drain plug. So maybe I flooded a hotel room this morning.

After that I caught a bus across town to the Costco equivalent and picked up some scotch (Dewars, of course) and some brie. After that, I got home, cracked the scotch, sliced the brie, and enjoyed "The Royal Tenenbaums," one of my favorite 'family' movies.

After the movie (and a 1/3 of the scotch) I met up with the new American, the Aussie, and the Russian friend for dinner. We went to the Holiday Inn which enjoyed a wonderful spread that included turkey, sirloin, salmon, apple pie, and many other delicious treats. However, much to my chagrin, they were missing mashed potatoes and stuffing.

It was a good meal, with good company, and I'm very happy. It's tough celebrating Thanksgiving away from home, and I think it'll be more difficult than celebrating Christmas away. But tonight was a good night, and I'm happy. Sure, they didn't have some old goofy guy deep frying a turkey, but all the good old goofy guys are visiting my brother in Prague right now, so all I can do is post more pictures of potentially old goofy guys deep frying turkeys.

PS: I respect and love old goofy guys because I'm well down the path towards becoming an old goofy guy who will one day deep fry his own turkey. I just like to poke fun. Poke. Poke.

Water-Lieu Day 2: Crossed Lines

2005-11-23T07:56:00.000-05:00

First off, accolades to my boss of bosses (aka the Chief of Police) as despite al my ranting, he at least understands the foreigner's desire to shower regularly. We've been given two rooms at a swanky hotel that is unaffected by the water stoppage because they draw from an uncontaminated underground well. This means I'll be able to cleanse myself tomorrow (Thanksgiving) regardless of my own apartment having water or not.

Anyways, as this situation develops it becomes only more and more clear that no one knows what the hell is going on. Fact: A chemical plant exploded in JiLin. That is all I can state as a fact at this point. There may or may not be a toxic level of benzine (benzene?) in the local river. It migh have already flowed past, it might not have really reached us yet. It might not even exist, this might all be one big over-under-reaction. I know my fellow Americans were quite disturbed with how the Katrina disaster was handled, but trust me, it can't have been as confusing and poorly organized as this. And this situation DOES NOT compare to the devastation of Katrina in any way, other than it involves water.

At this moment, I've got water in my apartment again. I've flushed my toliet clean and refilled buckets. Food supply going strong, stink still contained. Tomorrow I will wake up, shower either at home or at this hotel, trek across town to snag some Dewars, then relax until the Harbin Holiday Inn sets the table for turkey dinner. Our latest edition to the staff, a fellow Americano, will be joining me, plus an Aussie and her Russkie friend. It'll be a multi-national Thanksgiving, but it'll be with friends, and it won't be alone. I'm thankful for that.

Water-Lieu: Day 1

2005-11-22T18:43:00.000-05:00

I really wish I had posted last night now, as I've been informed by a Blogger in Arms (check out Adventures in Twenty Something on the side bar) via email this morning that not only has the Harbin water stoppage become an international news story, but that the government has changed its own record of the account.

As of yesterday afternoon, the official government word was that the water was being turned off for "routine maintenance." Now, ask anybody on the street and they'd tell you any one of a number of stories: a chemical plant exploded polluting the river, an earthquake broke the lines, and earthquake was going to happen and this was to prevent breaking the lines, etc. The chemical plant take was by far the most popular, denied by the government, but also the most reasonable. Turns out that was the truth, andnow its the official, PRC sponsored truth.

Here is a pic of the offended Song Hua River:

The sad part of all this is that I've been forced to lose a bit of respect for one of the small handful of people around here I've given carte blanche status, this being my Chinese teacher. We discussed the entire situation in class yesterday and in the end he told me he agreed with the party line, and whether that was an honest answer or not, he still said it. I know I have a lot more to learn about living/growing up in a place like the People's Republic, but...

Anyways, I'm not sure if everything is really "calm." Public schools are now shut down. (Chances that private schools will follow suit: slim to none, there is money to be made! Sanitation be damned!) Last night I witnessed two fist fights break out in my favorite neighborhood meat-on-a-stick joint, one over who got to use the bathroom next! Before that, I don't think I'd ever seen a fight break out here. Admittedly, it was hysterical to watch.

What does this all mean for me? Well, I'm pretty much shutting myself off from the tangible outside world (I'll still be on the internet!) as much as possible for the next few days. Seriously, I only plan on leaving my apartment now when forced to teach and for special exemption. Tomorrow being Thanksgiving, I consider that a special exemption, even if it means paying a ridiculously high price just to get some turkey and stuffing at the local Holiday Inn and even if I'm going to be eating it alone. Water stoppage, rampant pestilence, other people; be ye all damned before I miss my Thanksgiving Dinner!

Water-lieu: Preparation

2005-11-21T21:47:00.000-05:00

I've been a busy little beaver since being warned of the impending doom. Since word of the water stoppage reached my cell phone, I've been filling almost any sizeable container full of water; hopefully enough to last more than a few days. At this point it is still unclear as towards what is happening, all we are sure of here in Harbin is that the water is going to stop.

As of this moment, here is how my stores lie: In my bathroom I've got 9 approx. liter sized beer bottles, 3 wine bottles, and 2 scotch bottles full of water for "flushing" purposes. I've got two basins and a stolen beer pitcher sitting in my kitchen, these are allocated for face washing and teeth brushing. Finally, I filled up my laundry machine, which stores over 10 gallons, for emergency purposes. None of this water is drinkable, unless first boiled, but I've still got about 4 gallons in my water cooler.

Apparently the stores have all had a run on food and water, and I picked up some of my own edibles just now. There was not much left, so all I walked out with was a few loaves of bread, some cured lamb shanks, a big hunk of beef sausage, and some assorted yogurts. I've already compiled a large reserve of chocolate (thanks to Mom and Aunt Kaethe) so I think I'm OK on the food front.

Now, I need to say this again, NO ONE REALLY KNOWS WHAT IS GOING ON. I've heard that the water will be off for 4 days, 6 days, and 10 days. I've heard that its because an earthquake is going to happen, I've heard that the earthquake already happened, I've heard that its due to pollution levels, I've heard its because a petrochemical factory on the bank of the local river burnt down thus tainting the water supply. Every person I ask has a different story. Even the newspaper isnt clear.

I'm scared, I really am. But I'm prepared to hole up in my apartment starting tomorrow. We've still got a few hours until the entire city is cut off, and I'm willing to eat out tonight and feel confident in the sanitation at the restaurant, but starting tomorrow, no. I really can not believe that any eatery will have enough stock of water to properly clean and maintain healthy conditions. Its hard enough as is where most customers spend their time not chewing hocking lugies on the floor. Now they can't flush the toliet or wash their hands?

And what about my school? Or any school? I've seen unflushed squatters overflow and spill across floors, am i going to have to work alongside that sort of mess? That sort of smell? Ugh. I foresee much problemos on the horizon.

"And behold, a pale horse, and he who sat on it, his name was Death. Hades followed with him. Authority over one fourth of the earth, to kill with the sword, with famine, with death, and by the wild animals of the earth was given to him."

Man, I love getting biblical.

I Live in China

2005-11-21T03:29:00.000-05:00

I just received the scariest message I have ever received via cell phone text message.

WATER IS BEING SHUT OFF SHORTLY, MAY B OFF FOR 4 DAYS

Rock on!

UPDATE: Here is the official word on the water shut-off. Apparently they are predicting an earthquake for the weekend, so they gotta shut the water off.

Yeah, me neither.

People Who SHOULD Be Reading This Blog Are (But are Not Limited to):

2005-11-17T10:37:00.000-05:00

Not Pictured: Aunt Kaethe, David Baker Rice, and many others.

Because I'm Blue to the Core

2005-11-17T00:34:00.000-05:00

Andover beat Exeter in the yearly gridiron battle, 24-8, thus finishing the season undefeated. Go Big Blue!

Some readers are familiar with my fanaticsm towards my high school, some are not. All should know that the Andover/Exeter rivalry is the oldest high school rivalry in America, both schools having been founded before there was even a Constitution.

Even fewer readers might be aware of the significant moments that the Andover/Exeter game has provided in my life, let it be the purely athletic game-winning catch of one Titus Ivory during my Junior (freshmen) year or the more mischevious, and personal, stealing of the Exeter's mascot head during my Upper (junior) year. (Let it be also known that Chris Chen got the short end of that stick.)

Regardless, Go Andover!

Yes, Bill is Still Writing this Blog

2005-11-16T21:09:00.000-05:00

I'm ganking this post from Mr. M ("Tales from the Club" on the sidebar), but its a noble cause. Go to ESPN's Page 2 and vote in the greatest NCAA basketball teams of all time tourney. The Hoyas, complete with Sleepy Floyd, are ranked 4 in the Carrier Dome bracket. Here is the link if youre lazy: http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=hoops/tournament/index

Seriously Not Cool

2005-11-12T03:28:00.000-05:00

As if I didn't already dread my classes with the real little kids.

One of my youngest students stopped calling me teacher and started calling me an American devil. The actual phrase he used might be equated to the "n" word back home but channels its hatred through nationality, not race. Oh, and it's its state-sanctioned.

Regardless, screw you kid. I don't care how young you may be, that was not called for.

Don't mess with the bull, young man. You'll get the horns.

Harbin Street Stories: Poundin' the Pavement

2005-11-11T08:13:00.000-05:00

The morning slipped by like most. I wandered around my apartment, intermittently engaged with either surfing the internet, bingeing on DVDs, or (supposedly) cleaning up my place. Regardless, time ran together and memories lost definition and now nothing stands clear from that morning.

Eventually the combination of hunger, boredom, and cabin fever forced me into the outside world sometime maybe after 2. Having no business, no ambition, and no desires; I hit the street with no plan on how to occupy myself. A walk was, in the least, necessary, so I headed out in the general direction of everything. I also felt the need for a report on Harbin life for el blogomondo, and having my camera and notepad ready, I whipped out the 40G, set it shuffling Dre, Snoop, Em, 50, and Kanye, then ambitiously brought out the strut.

It only took 3 blocks before something caught my interest. Traffic here, as mentioned, finds itself a few notches beyond crazy. Outside the entrance of the big name university in town we've got this rotary dealie. Due to the flow of traffic and the layout of the exits off the circle, its only a matter of time before you'll see buses, cabs, and vans pretzled in together. Gordion Knots. It's hysterical, and makes for easy street-crossing.

Hanging a louie, I began the long, straight shot down DaZhiJie, one of the main drags of Harbin. It's a huge street, flanked by wide boulevards of sidewalks on either side (they gotta make room for 1.3 billion somehow), and one bastard of a cross wind. From my point of origin, DaZhiJie brings me past HIT, a Mao statue, some rather ugly public art (pictures have been posted on previous entries), a middle school, a handful of cell phone markets, and some other crazy stuff.

Funny thing about sidewalks here. I tried to define the word to a class once by stating "a sidewalk is the stip of pavement on the side of the road where you can walk and where cars can't drive." They didn't understand. "What do you mean, 'where cars can't drive?'" After remembering I was in China, their confusion made sense, as there really is no place "where cars can't drive." Automobiles zip up and down the sidewalk as they do the main road, dodging and honking at pedestrians the entire way.

By the way, if you didn't know, they love Jet Li here.

Arriving at the Snowflake I was forced underground. HongBo Circle, with its Snowflake axis, offered a game of Frogger I was in no mood for. Luckily a warren of tunnels weave their way under the traffic while simultaneously housing cheap, shoddy Chinese garments. Mao built these tunnels for the defence of Chinese Socialism. Now they are bastions of Capitalism. Hooray!

Crawling back up into the daylight I formed a plan. I needed to see the Fat Lady.

The Happiest Boy in the World

2005-11-08T08:53:00.000-05:00

I've now received two care packages in the past week. Hooray! Hooray!

This time it was from Mom, and by the 18 Hells of China, it had pants. Khakis, cords, and jeans. And they are all a size lower than when I left the US. All a perfect fit.

My old pants are all ridiculously big on me, not that they were ever really slim cut to begin with. And sure, I've been able to find pants around here, but they all the affordable ones are always a bit shoddy if they even have my size. I found some jeans, but they got an effeminate doolie across the bum. So, now, I'm happy.

I don't care if you call me a Momma's boy. I love my Mom.

She also sent Flushable Wipes with Scrubbing Bubbles.

Holy Salivation!

2005-11-01T23:11:00.000-05:00

I am currently staring at:
Honey Bunches of Oats Granola Bars
Twix
Snickers
TicTacs
Nature Valley Granola Bars
Oreos
Reese Peanut Butter Cups
Reese PB Cups with White Chocolate
2 Huge Hershey Bars
Trail Mix
Dove Bars
Life Savers
1 Steelers T-Shirt

This haul comes courtesy of my Aunt Kaethe. I'm quite excited. Some of these items I've been craving for a long time but have had no luck in finding suitable substitutes in China. Namely: granola bars, Reese PB Cups, and trail mix. The entire spread is laid out on my bed, almost inviting me to roll around in its goodness Scrooge McDuck style.

It's also funny how my father's side of the family (my Aunt Kaethe is his older sister) have never ceased in turning me and my siblings into Pittsburgh fans. Well, I'm not a huge sports fan, but I am Boston bred, born, and raised. That said, the Sox, the Bruins, the Celtics (though I'd rather watch Hoya-ball), and the Pats will always be my #1 pro teams. (Plus the Steelers aren't coached by any Andover grads! Haha! You knew that was coming!)

However, the tshirt is black, and I do respect that.

Thank you very very much Aunt Kaethe. Time to jump into that pile of goodness now.

Halloween in Harbin

2005-11-01T08:20:00.000-05:00

Hooray for Halloween. Hands down, my favorite social holiday. Here is the story on the 2005 Haunted Harbin Halloween.

I spent morning picking up last minute necessities to host a hole for our Halloween Golf Party. If you don't know what a Golf Party is, well, I'm not going to explain it here. Once home, I spent some time with quality horror films such as "Psycho" and "Night of the Living Dead (1968)," as well as some Simpsons' Halloween episodes. I carved a final jack-o-lantern. Then I put the costume together.

I went out this year as Baron Samedi, a figure prominent in the Voodoo religion of Haiti but maybe best known from his turn in "Live and Let Die" as a Bond baddie. (He's also in Goldeneye, one of the best video games ever. But you probably never use the Baron if you play, as he's very tall and often shoots over the heads of the other characters. I could go on, I could probably devote an entire blog to that one video game, but not here, not now.) Anyways, it wasnt too hard, and I got to use chicken feet in the costume. Not too hard to find chicken feet in China, actually, I can buy them almost immediately outside my front door.

Dan came over to do up his own paint job, he was shooting for a wizard outfit but seemed like everyone took it a different way. he got lots of "youre a demon!" or "youre that guy from that movie!" or "Darth Maul!" guesses all night, few got it right. Oh well. Still looked impressive, and once he was set we were already late, so we cabbed up to Craig's for the first hole of the night: beer.

At Craig's we met up with most of the Sunshine crew. Sadly, no one else was close to as geared up as Dan and I. Peer pressure is a wonderful tool though, so we got to work forcing others to get in the spirit. Jordan, one of our youngbucks, caved first. Wasn't sure it was possible, but, well, just take a look at the picture. Speaks for itself.

This post was going to continue on, I was going to fill it with humorous anecdotes from the evening, a few poignant observations, and the usual nonsense, but I just realized how tired and hungover I still am. So, know this: I served daiquiris, we took a break mid-golf to sit down at a restaurant and eat and terrorize Chinese people, and at the end of it all I passed out on the floor in the corner of a kitchen with a dog licking my face.

I love Halloween.

Now here are some pictures. Enjoy.

Fly the Airplane

2005-10-28T18:40:00.000-04:00

I've finally caved in and taken overtime. Usually I refuse, as the overtime usually isnt worth the money for the hassle, but this time was different.

I'll be tutoring stewardesses in airline English. For those who don't know, Harbin is the stewardess capital of China. And now the best of the best are going to be filtered into my class. I intend on teaching them scenes from "Airplane: The Movie."

Oveur.

In the meantime, I challenge our readers to guess what "fly an airplane" means in colloquial Chinese.

You Never Studied

2005-10-26T09:22:00.000-04:00

Tonight's class was awesome. We carved squash. We did a word search. I taught them "zombie." I told ghost stories. They told me what they were most afraid of. I told them what I was most afraid of. I told them the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. I didn't explain my answer.

The Unofficial Bill Fan Club

2005-10-26T00:26:00.000-04:00

Some of you long time readers might remember the misery I found myself in while teaching at the Harbin University of Science and Technology. For those that don't; we'll leave it at that it wasn't a pleasurable experience. Most of the students didn't care about their education, few participated in class, less did their homework. Plus it took 30 minutes to get their, another 30 to get back, and there was a 10 minute break in the middle of class that I didn't want and that I didn't get paid for. So a lousy 3 hour commitment only yielded less than 2 hours of pay.

Well, I guess I made some sort of difference, as I was contacted the other week by that same university. Turns out my old students want me back and they have been petitioning their administration to hire me back to teach a class. And, as the students (well, the best ones that is) understood my frustration in meeting their university's ridiculous curriculum, they've asked that I get to teach whatever I want however I want to do it. Really, they just want me to be their teacher again, which is great for Mr. Ego.

However, the (retarded) administration won't pay me. They want me to teach pro bono, out of the goodness of my heart. Ha. Haha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

But they are paying me to teach a 3 hour class on Tuesday nights for non-English majors. Apparently word got out about this, as each week I've had more and more students show up. English majors. My old students. They are not getting credit for this class, they are just there because I'm the teacher. Mr. Ego is purring with contentment right now.

The scary thing is that I retain the belief that I am not a good teacher. I ignore grammar lessons. I dwell on superfluous meanings and derivations of vocab words. Often I just throw out the assigned material and teach something off the top of my head. And yet, for some reason, my students love this. I'm constantly being told that I not only a student's favorite teacher, but best teacher. Wha? I've railed on the Chinese education system in the past, but if this is truly the case... whoa.

MSG Whillikers!

2005-10-22T08:09:00.000-04:00

At times it seems as if my life is little more than a string of battles; issues, big or small, that I deem necessary to open my big ol’ American mouth over and work towards a healthy outcome.

Some of my fellow teachers have experienced certain health problems ever since I arrived. The list is long and exhaustive, including everything from rashes to lethargy to anaphylactic shock. More often than not, we’ve summed these problems up to some simple cause such as the flu, hay fever, malnutrition, and so forth. With the exception of one rather drastic (and ridiculously handled) circumstance most of these maladies have been closer to molehills than mountains.

Recently one of our dingo-ate-my-baby Aussies has been stricken with migraines that have lasted up to twelve hours at a time. I consider this a “big problem.” Perhaps one that “demands medical service.” Of course, I said the same thing about the anaphylactic shock, and the Chinese just didn’t understand.

Luckily this lil’ shrimp-on-the-barbie Downunder-er has got a medical background and did a little research of her own. She analyzed her lifestyle, eliminated external factors, and the symptoms cleared up. Slowly, one by one, she reintroduced certain elements only to find the clear culprit: MSG. (PS: I've been watching a lot of "House" lately.)

Cross referencing the reported (but not proven) symptoms of an MSG allergy and suddenly we found the answer to almost every health problem every foreigner has experienced since I got here. Intriguing. Diagnosis (prognosis? I forget which is which) in hand, we started approaching the school cook in a hope to end the tyrannical use of MSG in her cooking.

I think we’d sooner get blood from a stone.

Every Chinese I discuss this problem with lacks the ability to understand what I’m trying to say. Yes, some people think MSG causes cancer. Yes, some people think that MSG deteriorates eyesight. Yes, MSG can cause rashes, shock, diarrhea, the whole gambit. (There is medical evidence behind all of this.) And, the hardest for them to comprehend, some people do not like the taste of MSG.

In the end, I’m attributing this to the binary thinking of the average Chinese. Food is food, yes, but “good” food must be Chinese, and it must be loaded with MSG. Otherwise it does not fit the rigid definition of “good” food. A filet mignon topped with crumbling bleu cheese cannot be good. Steamed lobster dunked in melted butter cannot be good. Hell, a burrito can’t even be good! Why? Because its not Chinese! Its not loaded in MSG! (Crazed, pushed-too-far laughter emanates across the internet from deranged author to hapless reader.)

Me? Well, MSG will, at times, send my stomach sprinting south for the border, but that has been the worst so far. Hope lies on the horizon, and the horizon lies about a 20 or 25 minute walk away at a fairy land I like to call “McDonalds.” There I sup upon the ambrosia that is their new sandwich: three beef patties on a sub roll with some orange dressing and a lot of cheese. On the way home I can pick up some donuts. Bliss. Hail Donut!

Hooray for Me

2005-10-21T18:57:00.000-04:00

I just found a $5 bill in the pocket of a pair of pants I have not worn since coming to China because I didn't fit into them comfortably until recently. This Saturday has started off on a good foot.

Also, a good cup of coffee and a jelly donut while watchiing "House" is another wonderful way to start a Saturday.

Hail Donut!

Homesicky Halloween

2005-10-20T23:56:00.000-04:00

Halloween approaches, and with that I'm quickly turning into my giddy self. I love Halloween, have for a long time. Horror movies are some of my favorite, the mythos of creepy creatures continually grabs my imagination, and candy! For this guy, Halloween gives one of the best parties and opportunities for fun out of the entire year. Forget New Years Eve, Halloween is where its at.

I've gone a bit overboard with Halloween celebrations in the past. 2004 gave a grotesque zombie, 2003 a wanna-be Venkmann complete with flashing proton pack. Every year gets more ludicrous, more ridiculous, more complicated, but at the same time more fun.

Now I'm in China, and I have to teach people about Halloween. Hard to do. But celebrating is even more difficult. The Chinese can't see the allure of the costume party or the scary movie. China has its own festivals honoring the dead, but these are more about "honoring" and less about having fun. And yes, Bill being Bill exascerbates the problem, as 9/10 costume ideas I have are lost on the common, non-Bill man.

This isn't to say that the Chinese are not without their costumes, as they have plenty of parades where dancers cavort in ye olde Chinese garb while on stilts, and each and every minority in the country distinguishes itself usually through their dress, but none of this is scary or even all that fun, as everyone does it anyways. Even on TV, I'm pretty sure more than half of the fictional programming revolves around costumes dramas. If I'm going to find any sort of get up this year, its gonna have to look like something out of an old kung fu movie.

Oh well. I've taken over our school's Halloween decorations and this week I'm going to the temple district to look for some more ideas on the costumes. Regardless, times like these are the ones that I'm really hurting for the West and everyone back home. Until then, I've invested in every worthwhile horror movie I've been able to get my hands on at the DVD market, so at least I'll have a rogues gallery of serial murderers, mutated freaks, zombies, and gothic ghouls to keep me happy this season.

Touching Lives (They Feel Sticky)

2005-10-20T01:18:00.000-04:00

There are high points to teaching younger people. My favorite classes are my pre-teens and young teens, kids between maybe 10 and 14. These kids are old enough that they should be learning, old enough to understand my jokes, and old enough to feel embarrassed when I humiliate them. Case in point: I've got a class with three kids named Tom who all sit next to each other. Each time I want a Tom to answer a question I need to designate which Tom I'm asking, usually through a silly distinguishment such as "Tom with the black shoes" or "Old Tom." Regardless, the Toms never pay attention, so the other day I simply called on "Tom with the dirty underwear." One of the Toms began to answer the question, all the other students laughed at him, and he paid attention for the rest of class.

But there are instances where the power trip of teaching gets a little ridiculous. Well, I'm going to assume this doesnt happen too often in "real" schools in "real" countries. I walked into a class the other day wearing my glasses as I was tired. Usually, when I'm tired, I find it linked to myeyes so I like to give them a rest from the contacts. Anywho, I walked into this class donning my specs for the first time towards the pleasure of those students. The girls erupted and for the next 5-10 minutes the entire class debated whether I was better looking with or without my glasses. In the end, a vote was held and the class was split, however they all agreed that teacher (me) is very very handsome both with glasses and without. Then some of the girls gave me candy and we finally began the lesson.

Now, I can't blame the girls, cuz, hey, look at the pictures.

Now and then I get similar reactions from other Chinese, not just my students, not just little girls. I jumped in a cab the other day and the driver claimed to recognize me. Attempting to brush him off (I was very much not-sober), he kept persisting and began to tell stories about me that no random Chinese would know unless I had actually had a conversation with them. He then brushed aside an RMB off the fare as I didnt have exact change, proving that this guy actually met me and actually considered me a friend of sorts.

I've learned a lot here in China since February, some lessons through trials by fire, some unwarranted, so flat out unwanted; but now and then things like these happen that keep me going.

Mmm... Reckless Abandon

2005-10-18T03:20:00.000-04:00

I've been awarded access to my own blog from the PRC, which now allows me to fool around with all the options and capabilities of the Blogger system. Expect to see some changes around here in the coming posts. Certainly, you'll see more pictures as I am no longer limited to the amount of memory dictated by my second-party posting service.

More than anything, this means more visual stimuli accompanying my narratives. As a picture is apparently worth so many words, I'm hoping this allows the few readers left to visualize exactly what I'm in the middle of here in China. But then, as I am no longer limited towards memory, I no longer have to carefully select the pictures that will be posted here. I've been giving a pass to reckless posting. So I can now fill up this blog with random pictures of my fellow staff, or silly translations I've found around China, or any interesting ice-carved store I might pass in Harbin.

But what I'm most excited about is that I have found a store that actually sells donuts. Real American donuts. Well, Chinese made, but we're talking in ways that would make them donuts of the American school, not the bland or tough Chinese donuts. Not the bean-filled donut, nor the steamed donut. No, real donut. I'm excited. I bought two jelly-filled donuts yesterday, and one went incredibly with a cup of French-pressed Yun Nan coffee this morning. I predict a happy future together, me and my new donut-supplier.

In the meantime, Hail Donut!

Epilogue: A Few Last Words and Pictures

2005-10-18T00:53:00.000-04:00

I've been back in Harbin almost two weeks now and most things are back to how they always are. This vacation was different from the last, but still very enjoyable. It certainly brought a handful of new experiences and a table full of junk.

There have been a few good stories since I've returned, and I'll try to catch you readers up on the best of them. Before that, however, you might have noticed a format change here at Immigrant Songs. Yes, the PRC has uncensored the "blogspot" domain, which means I can now not only post directly to my own blog but also view it! It also means I can catch up on the lives of other bloggers like Angus Dwyer, Pat Byrnett, Dave Rice, Connie Chilton, and my own sister. Hooray.

But before I do close the book on this vacation, a few last pics with immediate descriptions for your education/enjoyment.

This is your author outside that massive cave at Jiu Xiang, read about it in Chapter 1!

Minority costuming by the reflection of the Three Pagodas in Dali.

And finally, some shots from around Li Jiang.

Hope you enjoyed the travelogue, I'll be back to the usual ramblings after I go get a new key made for my front door. Mine broke again. This is a regular occurence, yes.

Chapter the Sixth: In Which Our Hero Finally Gets Some Personal Time and Maybe Dysentery

2005-10-17T00:34:00.000-04:00

Waking up before the dawn as the train pulled into KunMing, sure enough, I was quite tired. As the masses greeted us on the platform, our large tour group from Dali and LiJiang splintered, and once again I found myself alone with the two Harbiners.

We found our old KunMing tourguide and cabbed back to the same hotel as before. However, as reservations hold no weight in China, no rooms were prepared when we arrived thereby leading to a three hour wait in the lobby. I was tired as sin, and if I sat down my head would fall into sleep every few minutes. When I was sneaking zzz's, I took the time to memorize every facet of their scale model of the "Golden Hind."

Eventually I got my room, and with it a nap, bath, and some English-speaking TV. This was also the time when el stomacho started feeling a bit en fuego. I'll spare the details, but it became obvious that any plans for that day had to keep me in the city so my private, sanitary Western toliet would always be within a 10 minute cab ride. These are issues that become common worries for some in China. My time was now. Luckily, KunMing had enough within a couple of klicks to peak my interest.

Walking out of the lobby I first headed to the West Pagoda, another example of Tang Dynasty architecture. What might have been a frolicking little public square amidst a local historic site now seemed like a chaep children's park and nut market. Either way, it still stood better than the local mosque, which had been reduced to a parking lot.

Two or so blocks from the rubbled mosque I stumbled into the Muslim Quarter, and from the looks of things I couldn't help but imagine that the KunMing Civil Authority was trying to push out the local Muslims. The entire area was fenced in by construction sites and dumping areas, certainly not a great local for living or marketeering. I did, however, fall prey to a determined restauranteaur and lunched on some sort of lamb soup pizza deal. It was delicious, but the simple act of eating seemed to be allegorical for reloaded the cannon that had become my stomach, so I couldn't satisfy my full hunger.

Out of the Muslim quarter I made my way to the Provincial Museum and strolled through a photography exhibit celebrating Kun Ming, another on bronze drums, and finally a hall dedicated to Buddhist art. I find Buddhist art fascinating but I consider my understanding to be lacking, and as such I promised myself to search out some readings to illuminate my ignorance.

On the Buddhist kick, I wanted to be sure to make it to TianTong Temple, the local landmark, before it closed for the day. I hustled through the "Flower and Bird Market" (devoid of both flowers and birds) then up and over a hill to the front gate. The inside was quite peaceful and a wonderful example of the standard Buddhist temple. The mass of turtles in the moat captured the most of my attention because, hey, turtles.

From the temple I wandered to a nearby park built around 5 small lagoons but it soon became apparent that I wouldn't be enjoying myself here do the pressure of the mass crowds and the pressure building in my gut. So the day of adventure ended early, but the evening of... err... expulsion was just beginning.

The next morning I felt totally empty and spent, but in a good way. Fearful of all Chinese food on this last full day of my vacation, I made a plan only to dine at some Western restaurants I had found the day before. Breakfast thereby awarded eggs over easy, toast, coffee, and oh-so-delicious hashbrowns.

Americans: don't take your hashbrowns for granted. Cherish them every day, every bite, as if it were the last.

Gastronomically content, the day's first stop was The Bamboo Temple a few klicks out of the town. This temple, while in and of itself not exceptionally special, does house 500 arhat or luohan statues, each different. These are the disciples of Buddha, and each one was so realistically represented doing something, at times, exceptionally surreal that I spent an hour or two taking them in.

From the Bamboo Temple I made my way to Long Men, or "Dragon Gate." Built into the side of Xi Shan, the mountain that rims Dian Chi, the green lake I had boated upon a few days earlier, Long Men consists of a series of grottoes carved from the bare rock by monks. The paths were quite narrow at spots, and the crowds large (esepcially at the required picture points) but it was another site of the sort I had never seen, thereby making it an interesting experience.

Getting back down the mountain I took the path less traveled which smacked me into a little village amidst a monster bridge construction engineering project. Hoping from point to point in the deep mud that appeared to have a rock large enough to balance upon I eventually made my way to lakeside and crossed to the opposite side via a man-made dirt bridge. A walk through a park and I headed back to town, strolled through the major venues one last time (and happened upon a book in English on Buddhist art and temples!) I eventually settled in an Italian restaurant for dinner before going back to the room.

The vacation was, aside from the 5 AM wakeup call and flight home, over.

Chapter the Fifth: In Which Our Hero Finds Harmony and More Yak in Shangri-La

2005-10-13T06:38:00.000-04:00

Another early morning, another lackluster Chinese breakfast, and another bus ride took us to "MaoNiuPing," which translates into "Yak Plateau." Approaching the destination certainly gave the idea of a plateau, but not so much yaks. However, it wasn't until we actually disembarked from our own mechanical steed that I began to understand what was happening.

We were ascending a mountain, and a rather tall one, as I couldn't see the summit hidden behind the mass of clouds. We weren't going to hike it, that was for sure, as few of my fellow travelers were in shape for such a task, instead we took a luxurious ride into the clouds via chair lift.

The ride lasted about 25 minutes and chilled me to the bone. I wasn't prepared to gallavant around a mountaintop that day, let alone take a walk in the clouds, so all I had on was a t-shirt and my hoodie. Oh well. Live and learn: Don't go to Yak Plateau without the proper gear.

When we got to the top and hopped off the lift, a convenient boardwalk led us towards the village, but not without the requisite yak photo op. I take no shame in exploiting yaks for my own silliness.

I let this yak know I had eaten his little brother for dinner the night before, he responded with a horn thrust to my chest. I guess thats what I deserve for... wait for it... YAKKING OFF! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh Sweet Lord.

Anyways, from the yak we followed the boardwalk into the village, still raised off the muddy cloud-laden dirt floor of Yak Plateau. I didn't spend too much time purusing the wares, though I did snag a horrendously ugly yak skull pendant as a souveneir for someone who will appreciate a good yak skull pendant.

At this point I lost track of time and assumed I only had 20 minutes left to circle Yak Plateau when I actually had an hour and twenty minutes. Oh well. Soon enough I found a Tibetan style temple where the locals corrected my entrance in that one should enter a Tibetan temple on the right side while spinning the prayer bells and exit on the opposite side. Silly me.

Shortly after the temple I ran into Crazy Purple, who's real name I can not recall at this moment but who is certainly crazy, but in a good hyperactively friendly way. She basically took charge and led me the rest of the way through Yak Plateau, forcing me to wear the silly costumes for a picture (see previous posts) and then buying my food back at the village. She even paid a little girl to sing for me, and I thought at first the little girl was singing some traditional minority song until I listened close and realized she was simply saying "Mao is good, Mao is great, Mao is the best thing ever" over and over again. And, yes, for those of you paying attention, she was singing about the Chairman Mao, not the Yak "mao." They sound the same, but they are different. Stupid Chinese language. Argh.

Anyways, as I sat and warmed myself over some hot yak milk mixed with tea and chewed on yak-kabobs, I learned that Yak Plateau is apparently a supposed site of the legendary culture of Shangri-La. Now, I'm sure many spots in Northern YunNan and Western Tibet claim this distinction, but I don't really care for two good reasons: 1. I understand Shangri-La to be a legendary city, as in not real, like Atlantis or Seattle. 2. Who cares?! I just want to say I've been to Shangri-La! Can you say that, heh? Can you?

Eventually we had to leave the Yak Plateau and all of its cloudy yakness and yaknicity. Swerving back down the perilous mountain rode to head back to LiJiang (Dad, the roads to Dingle have nothing on what I saw during this trip) we took a quick stop by a river that was surprisingly clear/green. Most everyone washed their faces, some people jumped at their last chance to yak it up all yak style.

Soon enough we had returned to LiJiang proper, eaten lunch, and were on our way back to DaLi to catch our train. On the way I did give into an impulse buy and picked up a nice cheap jade Chinese Chess set. My companions bugged out when they saw this, as none could believe that I knew how to play Chinese Chess. This immediately led to the retelling of the same story 14 times, reading the piece names out over and over again, and reciting the idioms I know regarding the game. Fine enough, as when we did get back to DaLi we had to kill 2 hours our so. Thanks to the commotion with the chess set, I had Chinese lined up to take me on. I can not say I am good at Chinese Chess, but I won a single game, and upon that stroke of luck Crazy Purple's (who I had been playing against) father practically disowned her for losing to a foreigner. Haha!

But again the night brought a sleeper train back to KunMing. I loaded up on beer before boarding in a hope to pass out, perhaps to some Bon Jovi (sophomore year reference), all the way to KunMing. I had two days left and had no idea what was in store, so I wanted to have plenty of energy just in case.

Chapter the Fourth: In Which Our Hero Gets Lost Repeatedly And Eats Yak

2005-10-12T21:50:00.000-04:00

View From A Tea House
Originally uploaded by billmcgonigle.

The bus left from DaLi early in the morning, but that was fine by Yours Truly as I was itching to get to LiJiang. The ride took a handful of hours, and we made two requisite shopping stops (to my chagrin), but I'll admit the second at least had an interesting story behind it. We stopped at a complex at the foot of a mountain where our guide related the history of a fruitful silver mine that the French, British, and Germans had long battled over during the time of Foreign Aggression in China. In memory of the senseless and seemingly unending bloodshed, the precious material harvested from this mine is now known as "Blood Silver" in China.

Quite a tale, especially as I was working my way through Conrad's "Nostromo" at the time and imagining the troubles of the fictional San Tome mine while actually visiting a Chinese, factual equivalent.

Anyways, we got to LiJiang and checked into a nice courtyard style hotel. LiJiang in pretty far north and west into YunNan, but more north than west, and you can view the Tibetan border from certain spots in town. The local minority are called the "NaXi." and compared to DaLi, they had fully grasped their tourism capability but kept their local culture from becoming too Disney-fied, as some could say DaLi has.

Our tour guide for LiJiang didn't do too much other than lead us to the Old Town, give a very quick tour, and then simply let us free. Probably for the best, as the Old Town in LiJiang is a warren of markets, tea shops, bars, eateries, and craftsmen.

I hadn't purchased much up to this point on the trip, as I expected LiJiang would provide my treasure trove. Sure enough, it did. I spent 4 hours or so wandering around, often getting lost, then lost again, and then when I reoriented myself, I got lost again. None of the roads here are straight, all are small with numerous alleys shooting off in different directions, and sometimes, yes, all things in China might look the same to a foreigner. Regardless, I got some shopping in and got gifts for a lucky few and a shirt for myself.

The atmosphere of the day was what made it so fascinating. LiJiang was one of the best steps back into Ye Merry Olde China that I've been pricy to in my travels. QuFu had some good bits, DaLi we didnt get enough time to really experience, Beijing, Shanghai, QingDao, and Harbin are all far too modernized to capture this ambiance. But LiJiang jumped from the pages of history and kungfu movies and I loved it.

After bringing my newly purchased wares back to the hotel, I proceeded to get lost again while looking for dinner. (I took a picture of a map if you want to see what I was dealing with, all the pics are available here: http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AaMm7ds5bNWJo so get over and see for yourself.) I had to make a show at 8, so I eventually threw in the towel and sat down by one of the numerous streams running through town and grabbed an overpriced dinner.

As one who enjoys experimenting with all sorts of food, I found it hard to resist the yak plate. Yak is a bit tough, but you cant say it lacks flavor, thats for sure. I also had some fried goat cheese and a baba, which is sort of a local pancake/pie thing with some sweety filling. Already having shelled out more than I wanted to for this grub, I initially steered clear of their expensive beer prices, but after a cheap cup of wonderful coffee I realized I needed something cool to wash down the yak. All in all, a decent meal, and certain different.

The rushed dinner was necessary as I had purchased primo seats to a concert that evening put on by the Naxi Orchestra, a band of 24 who are able to create the most faithful renderings of true Chinese traditional music. Their instruments had been marked for destruction by the Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution, but they had buried their centuries-old pipas, erhus, gongs and etc to reform in the late 80's under a man named Xuan Ke.

The music was enthralling, and Xuan Ke gave an introduction and explanation to each in both Chinese and English. He made some jokes about foreigners to the Chinese, which led to another one of those "a foreigner who speaks Chinese!" conversations with my neighbors, plus I got to call Xuan Ke out on his transgression after the show when I chased him down to chat. Amazing man. All I gotta say.

After the show, yet another long day drew to a close. I was unclear towards what we were doing the following day, but I knew it had to end on a sleeper train departing from DaLi for KunMing. So, I slept.

Chapter the Third: In Which Our Hero Denies the Chinese of His Humiliation and Takes in a Crazy Tea Dance

2005-10-12T00:09:00.000-04:00

1, 2, 3 Pagodas! Bwah ha ha!
Originally uploaded by billmcgonigle.

Waking up on a train, well, at least a sleeper train in China, falls far from the most relzxing morning one might imagine. Thus was the case upon pulling into the DaLi train station shortly after sunup. Once the locomotive reached a full and complete stop, the crowds herded out to find their local tour guide.

Immediately exiting the train station I found two long lines of Chinese adorned in the local minority garb of the "Bai" people. How cute, thought I, a welcoming committee to introduce us to their strange and savage ways. Nope. Just all the tour guides liined up looking for their fares. Turns out almost everyone in DaLi finds soome connection to the tourism biz, and the tourism biz is all about being the minority and wearing the dress.

And so we found our guide, our bus, and then yet another joyous Chinese breakfast. But no time to relax, as we had a schedule to keep!

First off was the Old City of DaLi. Well, at least one street worth of it. We only had about 30 minutes to poke around this area, frustrating to yours truly as this would be the most interesting stop of the day, and the briefest. Luckily, my craving for Ye Olde China would meet satisfaction in LiJiang, but on this day it was one street, a pagoda, some animal statues, and not even enough time to check out the market before we had to head out.

Stop number 2: a granite/marble emporeum. Yippee. I've mentioned this before, I'll mention it again: the Chinese love rocks. Absolutely love them. I don't get it.

Stop number 3: Something cultural! The 3 Pagodas, some of the oldest still standing structures in YunNan. I'm no specialist on backhouses (only the Donald could be), but apparently these are prime examples of Tang Dynasty architecture. I was more caught by the reflecting pool behind two of the towers and the subsequent GuanYin (one of the thousand Chinese Buddhas) temple behind it all. So enthralled that I was late and the last back to the bus, prompting screams of "sing a song!"

But no! Haha, silly Chinese! Anyone who knows knows that I will not sing under any pressure that does not directly affect the physiochemistry of my brain organ! (Unless on an ESCAPE venture, but thats besides the point.) My fellow tourists frowned that I would not provide the embarrassing serenade, but then one guy realized, and thusly screamed out for all to hear: "This foreigner speaks Chinese!" Yes, I do, and yes, this continues to surprise Chinese after Chinese, and yes, I still enjoy that surprise.

After the pagodas, which were the second largest element to DaLi tourism after the minority deal, we grabbed a quick lunch at the local bong market (no joke, see the pictures at http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AaMm7ds5bNWJo when you got time to kill at work) and then hit a jade market before going to Butterfly Park.

Butterfly Park was totally lame, especially as I got duped into paying 10 RMB for a tram ride that only lasted about 100 yards. Now, there was an interesting song and dance thing going on, but most people were busy hanging cloth hearts on trees, trying on costumes, and gorging on pomegranate. I just hurried through the entire scene, stopping only to watch the real minority slave-laboring over crappy tourist merchandise and then to watch a sheep lick a man's crotch for longer than I found comfortable. I tried to get a picture of the would-be Chinese Scott Tennerman, but he deftly parried my camera and the shot was lost to all but my memory.

The last scheduled activity of the day centered around a cruise of ErHaiHu, or "Ear Lake." Every tourist in driving distance must have shown up, as the endless crowds took 30 minutes to load the boat. Once we set off, the cruise it self was pleasant, and I scrounged some hot coffee to keep my dozy head awake.

Eventually we got to a small island or jetty or whathaveyou, where a giant statue of GuanYin (that Buddha again) rested at the peak. We only had 25 minutes on the island, which lead to a hysterical scene of watching over a thousand Chinese pour off a boat, sprint around an island, and then attempt to get back on the boat in a rational manner.

I got back on a bit early and found a comfortable seat for the "3 Ways of Tea" show that was included in my ticket. Supposedly some sort of traditional tea ceremony including traditional dress, traditional music, and traditional dance; the first two characters appeared wearing traditional sunglasses and traditional fake moustaches. Whoever they were, they were totally apeshit about tea, as all they did for 5 minutes was scream "We love tea" while galavanting around the room and dry humping two stalks from a traditional plastic tea plant. I have not seen my friend Max Sung in years, but if he is lost somewhere in this world, I'd have no trouble believing he was one of these tea dogs.

The following dances were fun enough, actually quite entertaining, though at times a bit hokey. The accompanying tea was also pleasant. Soon enough I returned to the deck, kept watching water, and would eventually make it back to port.

Back on the bus, dinner, problems with the hotel and my room (I paid extra to have a private room each night) bt eventually settled in. The tour guide was worried I couldn't understand her last bit as we checked into the hotel, but I understood her, though I didnt. She kept screaming "Beware the broken cups! Be careful of the broken cups!" but I tried to simply shrug her off as I was certainly too tired to fear any sort of ceramic. Regardless, she sent the Americanized Chinese to explain to me the full meaning of her forewarning. I got to talking with this new friend and soon enough we were walking around with her parents trying to find a supermarket, as the hotel didnt have toothbrushes or toothpaste (standard in China, I forget back home) and I just wanted to stretch my legs before sleeping. I did get some iced coffee for the morning, as we were heading to LiJiang, the spot I was most excited for. And with that, I went to sleep.